Dig Up The Bones
by Maddie Rose
Summary: Elethea Ambrose volunteers for the 69th Hunger Games out of sheer arrogance, but she doesn't realise that it's winning that makes a person come undone. When she finds herself slowly becoming a monster, when she starts losing who she is, there's only one person to turn to - and he's just as broken as she is anyway. Finnick/OC
1. Our Temple, Your Tomb

**Chapter One: Our Temple, Your Tomb**

* * *

"_We took you right from _

_Your mother's womb_

_Our temple_

_Your tomb."_

_- The Wolf, Fever Ray_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

It had grown on me like a weed, this obsession to prove myself. I know what the other would-be tributes see when they look at me, the potential volunteers from District 4. They see a fourteen-year-old girl, a child. Some of them call me 'squirt', probably because I'm barely over five feet tall. Other don't call me anything at all, because apparently I'm not worth talking to. But this year, I'm going to prove them all wrong.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" Jehovah, the District 4 escort, is as upbeat as ever as he beams out over the sea of young faces he was confronted with – including me. But I know that this year was different. This year, I will prove something that few Careers ever can. Brute force isn't the only thing that can win the Games. "Now, we all know why we're here. We all know about the Dark Days, and how the districts rose up against the Capitol…"

I stand patiently in my section with the rest of the fourteen-year-olds. Another two weeks ago I would have been back with the thirteen-year-olds – not that anyone could really tell. I like to think I could pass for fifteen, maybe even sixteen – although definitely not something that's due to my height. I'm practically a midget. I fiddle boredly as Jehovah keeps rambling on about the Capitol and the failed uprising, before I focus my attention on Finnick Odair, the most recent Victor from District 4.

He's gorgeous, let's just put it that way. No sane girl in Panem could ever deny it. He won the 65th Hunger Games a few years back, and was only something like eighteen years old currently. He'd been only fourteen when he'd won – the same age that I am now. I've been training since I was ten, like most kids from my district. Most volunteered when they were older, stronger…bigger. I thought it would be cool to show Panem that Victors could be young, that not all Career Victors were six-foot boys who would weigh in at over a hundred kilos.

"So without further ado, I would like to call upon this year's girl tribute from District 4."

My head snaps up at Jehovah's words. This is my chance, and I have to take it quickly. There is no time to think or deliberate. I just step out and toss back my black hair.

"I volunteer."

Finnick watches me make my way up to the stage, but not an interested way. I can tell by the look in his sea-green eyes that he thinks I'm going to die, and that just makes me even more determined. People judge me based on my age and size before they've even seen me throw a knife. I bet he thinks I won't survive the bloodbath.

"Name and age, young lady?" Jehovah inquires.

"Elethea Ambrose." When I speak, my tone is completely clear and confident. I can betray no hint of doubt. "Fourteen."

"Elethea, if you would go and stand over there, please." Jehovah gestures to the side and I obediently go to stand in my designated spot. "The boy tribute is…Dominic Deran!"

Dominic walks up and I recognise him vaguely. He is a sixteen-year-old boy with sandy hair and blue eyes. Finnick watches us both intently, evaluating us. It's unusual for someone to be reaped without anyone else volunteering in their place, but no doubt Dom was the sort of guy people knew would make it. He's almost a foot taller than me and I know I'd nearly have to crane my neck to look up at him.

"Tributes, shake hands," Jehovah orders.

I turn to Dom and shake his hand with a firm grip. He watches me warily. I might only be fourteen but no doubt there is a fire in my green eyes, at least I hope there is. I am so determined, probably a little over-confident as well.

"Really think you got what it takes, Deran?" I ask quietly when I release his hand.

"Yep." The confidence that I feel is mirrored in Dom's eyes. "You?"

"That's why I volunteered." I give Finnick the approving once over. He is definitely as attractive as I remember. He was around six foot two, with bronze skin and sea-green eyes. I'm fair with freckles across my nose. God, I hate my freckles. "Besides, you're only like…two years older than me."

"So?" Dom raises his eyebrows. "Age doesn't always matter, Ambrose."

"Yeah, true," I drawl as the rest of the district watches us being escorted into the Justice Building. I have to be a little nervous about what my mother and my eleven-year-old brother, Medalleon, will think of me volunteering. Will they judge me, condemn me for my choice to leave them behind? "I'll still flatten you in training."

Dom just chuckles. "We'll see."

I mill around inside the Justice Building, looking up when the door is wrenched open and my little brother runs over to me. Joy suffuses me and I pick him up and hug him, well aware that it might be the last time I see him. Volunteering had seemed brave at the time, but now I only feel stupid, like someone trying to prove something they can't. Can I really survive the Hunger Games with an opponent like Dom?

"Leon!"

He clutches onto me tightly, and I notice Mum follow him over. She's a serene woman who has hardly ever smiled since the death of Dad ten years ago, caught in a net like the fish he tried to catch, but right now she looks grimmer than ever. I wish that my choice hadn't brought my family such sadness and pain, and right now I regret it more than ever. I wouldn't have been chosen, I'm almost certain of it. I had chosen the Games, instead of the other way around.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," I assure Leon. I understand that he doesn't want to lose me. He had only been a baby when our father had drowned. Although he couldn't mourn a man he'd never known, there was a sort of emptiness there, like a hole in Leon that couldn't be filled. "I'm going to win."

"You better win," Leon says fiercely, and I can't help but swell with pride. My brother is strong already and he is only eleven years old. I would never want him in the Hunger Games, but if he did participate, I'm almost certain that he'd win. He has the same sort of fierce determination that has seen people like Finnick Odair through to the end.

Mum watches the two of us with a sad smile, her eyes solemn although her lips twist upwards into the mockery of a smile. She has seen many of the Games – and knows how horrific they are, how full of violence and death. It must hurt her to know that I'd willingly condemned myself to this, but I want to prove a point…yet now it seems stupid, arrogant.

"You know me. You know I've trained for this." It's true. I might be small, but I have learned to use the lighter weapons to my advantage. I am fast. Speed is my weapon. I can move faster than most of the bulkier tributes. "How's your training?"

Being eleven, Leon has only just started his training. He makes a face at the mention of it, though. He's one of those impatient kids who can never sit still, but being told what to do when isn't his idea of fun.

"Boring."

I grin and ruffle his hair, before turning to my mother, smile fading a little. "Mum."

Mum can't restrain herself from hugging me tightly. She buries her face in my dark hair. I pat her back, slightly embarrassed. I think she realises, as I am just beginning to now that it is too late, that even if I do make it home, I will never be the same. Mum had seen the Victors, seen how hollow they were. I'd seen them too, yet I'd stupidly believed I could overcome any obstacle, as though I am somehow _stronger._

"I'll be fine," I insist, more to placate Mum than because I believe it to be true.

"Promise me you'll come home," Mum begs desperately.

I bit down on my lip, tasting blood. "You know I can't do that."

"Please." Mum tightens her grip on me, unwilling to let me go although she knows she will have to. "Just promise me that."

"Either Dom or I will come home." I relent, unable to cause my mother pain even if it means I have to lie. We're Careers, so there's the high possibility that Dom, at least, will return to District 4. "I promise that much."

Mum smiles sadly and kisses my cheek, before Leon hugs me fiercely again. I observe my little brother, ruminating on how much I am going to miss him when I went to the Capitol…Mum, too. My heart aches and I want to say, let Mum hold me in her arms forever, but I have to go.

"Be good for Mum, Leon," I tell him firmly, falling into typical big sister mode.

"I always am," Leon reminds me.

"You better be." I try to sound mockingly threatening, but my voice is flat. "Don't forget to watch, okay?"

Leon nods fervently. He has no choice but to watch. He will watch me die…unless I can prove myself strong enough to live. "I will. I always do."

"You going to volunteer when you're older?" I ask. It's a common question around District 4. I think I already know the answer, although I wish I could somehow change it. Why had I made such a stupid choice? Had I really been so caught up in false thoughts of glory and honour and triumph?

Leon nods again, so vigorously I'm half surprised his little head doesn't drop off. "And I'm going to win."

I smile at his optimism. "Good boy."

"I'm going to miss you." Leon kisses my cheek, his tender affection surprising me. Leon is at the age where hugging and kissing is seen as embarrassing, but I think even at his young age he realises I might not be coming home.

"I'll miss you too," I admit, forcing away my feelings of loneliness. I hadn't even left yet and already I'm missing my family. "I'll bring you back some Capitol food if I can."

Leon grins ecstatically. "That would be awesome!"

"They look so weird," I remark, referring to the Capitolians. Leon and I had always giggled about them, how colourful and silly they were. We used to joke during the earlier Games, point out the stupid things so that we didn't have to get caught up on the death and violence. "You'll get to see them again."

"I know. I can't wait." Leon sounds excited, because to him, the Games are still just something he watches on television. They aren't real, not yet. If I don't come home, he won't really understand that I'm _gone._

"You have to train hard, okay?" I persist. I am almost desperate now. I just want to keep talking to my family forever, so that I'll never have to leave them. I would talk about anything and everything, if only to be with them.

"I will." Leon nods vehemently. "I promise."

I gnaw at her lip as the Peacekeepers venture towards us, clearly intending to remove Mum and Leon. "I think I have to go and wait with the others now."

Mum embraces me tightly, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. "Try to come home."

"I will," I hope that she's right, that I won't let them down. "I promise, I'll do my best."

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I spread myself across the lounge as the train rushes towards the Capitol, examining the two tributes I'm going to have to work with. The boy is the elder of the two, maybe a couple of years younger than me. He's got the look of someone who could do well, as he's a little off six feet and well-muscled from his training. The girl's another story completely. She's young, too young in my opinion. She's dark-haired and sweet-faced with a curvy body, but she can't be any more than fourteen.

"Look at all this stuff, Dom." The girl – Elethea, I think her name is – curiously observes the coloured bottles of alcohol that are lined up on mahogany benches. Dom stands beside her, but although Elethea's face is glimmering bright colours from the glass and rapt with fascination, her district partner is more reserved. Elethea turns to glance at me, noting the drink in my hand. "Are we allowed any?"

"Nope. Sorry, honey, you're too young." I have to admit it's an amusing question. Does she really think I'd let a kid her age drink alcohol? Dom grows bored with the display and comes to sit down on the couch across from mine, but Elethea remains where she is, standing on tiptoe. She's in awe of all these thing she's never seen before. Even the rich in District 4 can't afford some of this alcohol.

"Cool," she breathes, before walking over and sitting down beside Dom, green eyes wide as saucers. "What are the other Career tributes like?"

"Oh, they're big." I remember a little of what I saw from the District 1 and 2 reapings. The girls are both at least a few years older than young Elethea, the boys easily over six feet tall. They've definitely got some tough competition to contend with. I realise, with wariness stiffening up my muscles, that I've got to get some big favours in to keep these two alive. "Older than both of you are, too."

"So, is it still a good idea to team up with them?" Dom asks, leaning forward. He's the more cautious of the two, the more likely to sit back and plan while Elethea will dive straight into trouble. From what I've seen, of the two of them, he's the more likely to survive.

"Yeah, but be careful," I warn. You can never fully trust anyone in the Games, not even your district partner. Most tributes don't need to be told this, but most tributes from 4 are volunteers in their late teens.

"So, what sort of angle should we play?" Elethea inquires eagerly, joining in on the conversation. "Like, tough?"

"You'd be better to play a sweet angle," I tell her. She's got the face of a little doll, this one. She could easily play the cutesy card, which is one of the advantages of her young age. I turn to her district partner. "Dom, I'd lay low. Don't show them your strengths or weaknesses, if you can."

"Is it because I'm small and young?" Elethea inquires, but her tone is curious rather than offended.

"Yeah," I rake a hand through my hair. Her shrill voice is already beginning to grate on my nerves, her childish curiosity irritating me. "Look, I don't know what you _can_ do, but neither do they."

"So what do we focus on in training?" Elethea persists. No doubt she's learned skills during training, but I highly doubt a girl of her size would be skilled with any of the heavier weapons.

"Survival skills," I notice that Dom is watching me closely, his expression fierce. "Practise with the weapons, see which ones you feel comfortable with and train with them, but don't give it all you have."

"What do we do in the bloodbath?" Elethea asks. Jeez, this girl definitely doesn't have a shortage of questions to rattle off. I suppose it's better than silence, although I can't help but wish she'd give it a rest. "Go for the Cornucopia?"

"Hang back." I shake my head fervently. "Sweetie, you don't want to get taken out. Let the other four Careers kill and then once they're done, go over and grab your weapons. Make sure you form an alliance with them when you're in training though."

"Dom would be better at the alliance thing then." Elethea glances at her district partner. I don't know too much about either of these kids, but Dom seems to be pretty laid-back. I'd rather he took it up himself to talk to the kids from 1 and 2 rather than leaving it to Elethea.

"If they don't agree, you should avoid them in the arena," I suggest, turning to face Elethea abruptly when she scoffs, tossing back her long black hair.

"I'm not afraid of them."

I frown. Maybe this girl is more stupid than I initially thought. Fear is good. I was only her age when I won the Games, and it sure as hell wasn't easy. I've had to deal with arrogance from some of these tributes too smarmy for their own good, and they usually die early.

"Well you should be. They're dangerous. You're stupid to think otherwise."

Elethea scowls petulantly. "I'm not stupid, but they probably are."

I sigh heavily. Another one of those kids who thinks they know better. "If you don't want my advice, then don't take it. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

"You won easy, though," Elethea says coolly, which makes me angry. Easy? She thinks there's such thing as _easy_? This stupid, stupid little girl. She knows nothing about how hard the Games really are. How could she know?

Elethea shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, you got given a trident coz you're a pretty boy."

"El, stop it," Dom insists, frowning across at his district partner.

"So?" I can't help but snap, getting to his feet. I'm normally the charming guy, the flirt, but Elethea's found something else. It isn't like me to lose my cool, but she's touched a nerve – a raw, bitter memory. "You think that made it easy for me to kill people? You think it makes the nightmares and regret easy? You really know nothing, Elethea."

Elethea tilts her chin up stubbornly. "I volunteered to bring pride to my district. That's what I intend to do."

"Well, you won't do that when you're dead," I respond flatly, getting to my feet and walking out of the compartment. There have been tributes who annoy me and tributes who made me want to pull out my own hair because they're so dumb, but Elethea is the first to rile me up – and we're still just on the train. How am I meant to cope with a girl so infuriating?


	2. Riddle Me This

**Chapter Two: Riddle Me This**

* * *

"_The addiction, the friction, it burns you alive_

_So illegal, no evil is seen with these eyes."_

_- Lolita, The Veronicas_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

The train hisses into the station as I stand by the window, glued to the outside world. The Capitol is a place of certain death for twenty-three tributes, yet it's so beautiful. It's practically bursting with colour and as always, my curiosity is running at a dangerous high. In fact, I'm so absorbed that for a moment, I forget Dom and Finnick are in the room, too. I don't even glance at Finnick – because no doubt he's still mad at me for yesterday.

"What do you think?" Finnick inquires, his question prompting me out of my reverie. He doesn't sound like he's holding a grudge, but I'm too fascinated by the world outside to spare him a look so that I can see for sure.

"Cool," I breathe, noticing that another train has already arrived at the station. I'm immediately nervous, but then I realise that these tributes must be from 3. The only reason I know this is because Finnick said the tributes from 1 and 2 are much bigger and older than Dom and I. These two being cheered onto the platform are young. The girl's around Dom's age, but barely taller than me. The boy's maybe my age and very slender. By the fear on their faces as our train stops behind theirs, I highly doubt either is a volunteer.

I collect myself and take a deep breath, my stomach fluttering a little apprehensively. I'm confident, but I'm not really the sort of person who knows how to present myself to a crowd. Dom knows. I can see it on his face as he straightens his shoulders and emerges from the train with a dazzling smile across his face. At first, I'm a little taken aback by the intensity of the roar from the Capitolians outside, but I do my best, smiling until my face hurts.

Finnick and Jehovah quickly usher Dom and I into the training centre, and we go up to the fourth floor. Even the elevator is amazing. I press a hand against the transparent glass, watching my reflection do the same. Everything about this place is ethereal. So very different from back in District 4, where the sun beats down on your skins, the sand sticks between your toes and the waves spray salt in your hair.

"Your prep team will come to collect you in about an hour." Finnick sinks into a chair, looking relieved. "You'll be separated and seen to by your stylists."

Jehovah offers him a glass of white wine, and he takes a deep, appreciative gulp. I wonder how mentoring can be such hard work. All he really has to do is give us pointers, tips on how to survive. So far, it's not what I've been expecting. I'm a Career. Was I really expected to run? Admittedly, I'm a bit unimpressed by that suggestion.

"I'm going to check out my room," Dom pipes up, walking out of the main entrance to find it. I glance at Finnick, who's already looking weary and swilling his glass of wine. I follow Dom down the corridor, skipping until I catch up with him.

"What do you think our costumes will be this year? Should we talk to the other Careers before the chariots, or during training?"

Dom turns to face me, a slight frown turning down his lips. "Give it a rest, El, we've only just got here."

I sigh heavily and venture into my own room. Dom isn't snappy really, he just sounds tired, too. I glance around and the room completely overwhelms me. My family isn't what you'd call poor, but even what we have back in District 4 is a pale comparison to the room I'm in now. The window takes up an entire wall by itself. The bed…I can't resist the urge to throw myself down and roll around. It's huge, big enough for three people at least. I give a contented sigh and flop back on my pillows.

"You're a nut." I jerk upright at Dom's amused chuckle from the doorway. I'm a little embarrassed at having been seen in my moment of private joy. I flush and push myself to my feet, noting the Dom is studying me intently as he leans in the doorway with his arms folded. Is he thinking about how easy it would be to kill me? "Come on. We should get something to eat before our prep teams come."

* * *

The prep team prods and pokes me until I feel that I'm sore all over. My hair's been twirled into a top knot, before being braided so that it falls down my back. The prep team had argued over whether to bronze my pale face, before agreeing it would just look tacky as it wouldn't go with my complexion. My lashes are coated with thick black mascara, my green eyes rimmed with golden eyeliner.

But it's my costume that bothers me the most. It's a sparkly gold _thing_ – I don't know what else to call it – a sort of thin band across my that barely covers my breasts. I had a set of tiny matching shorts and over that, a net is draped, as if that will somehow conceal me more. I storm over to my chariot with a scowl, noting that Dom is wearing a similar costume except without the gold band around his chest.

"Do we seriously have to wear these costumes?" I demand.

"Yes." Finnick observes me critically, while Dom looks more perpetually amused than anything. "Why?"

I throw up my hands. "I'm practically falling out of it!"

"It's not that bad," Dom comments mildly with a shrug, as Finnick grins boyishly at my discomfort. What sort of sponsors am I meant to gain from wearing a fishing net and not much else?

"That's because you don't have boobs," I grumble. It's true though – at fourteen years old, I'm already sitting at something like a D cup, so I really don't need my breasts to be flaunted any more than they have to be. I frown as Dom starts laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You actually look nice," Dom replies, which causes me to stop in my tracks. Nice? Well, that wasn't really how I would describe my costume.

"For once," Finnick adds in a mutter.

I glare at him. "For once? What is that meant to mean?"

"Exactly that," Finnick replies cryptically, only serving to annoy me now. I'm not in the mood for games right now. All I want is a proper costume. Over in their armour, the pair from District 2 are snickering. We can't all look as gorgeous as Finnick Odair all the time. I swear, it's not fair. Even when he gets up in the morning and he should be all bedraggled and icky, he looks so hot.

"This is a net, Finnick," I remind him, shaking the offending material with vigor, "I'm wearing a _net_."

"Here." He sighs heavily and steps over, fixing the net up and hitching up the gold band around my chest so it isn't showing as much of my breasts. It's better, but I still feel like my costume is a catastrophe. Although, Finnick Odair's hands had been dangerously close to my boobs, so I guess that's a plus. Kind of.

"Thanks." I glance around and notice the pair from District 1. Both are wearing jewels that hardly cover any of their bodies. Neither of them seems to be perturbed by it. "At least we're not as bad as District 1. They're practically all jewels. Dom, don't push me off the chariot, okay?"

It seems random, but it's happened before, and I don't want to become another victim just for a bunch of laughs from a Capitol audience.

"Why would I?" Dom raises his eyebrows, clearly perplexed by the idea. When I roll my eyes to express the obvious, his frown deepens. "To gain sponsors, you mean? How would I manage that by pushing you off?"

"Don't give him ideas," Finnick warns, watching as I pull myself onto the chariot and Dom steps up beside me. "Smile and wave, kiddies."

"Kiddies?" I repeat incredulously as District 1's chariot lurches into motion. Finnick is only a little bit older than Dom, who is only a little bit older than me, so how can he see us as children? "Really?"

"And relax," Finnick adds. I force a smile as our own horses move forward. It makes my face hurt after a while, all the fake smiling. How can Finnick and the other Victors stand it? I can't help but glance around a bit nervously as we make our way towards the square. Dom notices and grips my hand.

"It's okay."

"I'm fine," I insist, wrenching my hand from his as if it's poisonous. I start waving, that stupid broad grin still across my face. I notice that Dom has copied my actions. The crowd is full of colour and motion. I can hardly hear over their dull roar. "We look like idiots."

I lapse into silence as the chariots drew around for the presidential address. Now we are stationary, I can get a good look at the others, especially at District 1 and 2 – who would soon become our allies. The boy from 1 was tall, easily over six feet, with a mop of blond hair and a square jaw. He is sturdily built and pays way too much attention to his district partner, a slender girl with silver-blonde hair. Actually, I think that's her name – Silver. The boy is Xavier or Xander or something like that.

Whereas District 1 are somewhat flirtatious, District 2 are a very serious pair. The boy is even taller than the District 1 guy, maybe 6'3 or 6'4. He has spiky brown hair and his arms folded over his chest as he listens to what President Snow is saying. The girl has fire-red hair and is tall and lean. I can't remember their names right now, but both of them seem fierce. A little shiver runs down my spine.

"Feel any better?" Dom's voice brings me back as our chariot wheels around and we begin the procession back.

"A bit," I admit. Seeing the tributes from 1 and 2 hasn't exactly done me a world of good. Dom is a lot taller than me, but both of the other boys tower over him. The girls are slimly muscled and I'd guess they are probably a lot stronger than me. I step off the chariot, shivering a little in the night's cool air. Finnick walks over and I fiddle with my net, wishing I had something warmer to wear.

"Did we do okay?" I ask a little worriedly.

"You did brilliantly," Finnick assures us, making me grin in delight. My stomach rumbles and I glance down, realising I haven't eaten anything since I'd stepped off the train. No wonder I was hungry.

"Dinner now?" I inquire hopefully.

Finnick laughs at that. "Yep. Come on."

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I walk across to the lift, Elethea and Dom trailing obediently after me. They did good, considering the skimpy costumes they'd been given. I notice Elethea wrap her arms around herself and shiver. I follow her gaze, noticing the boy from District 2 staring at her intently as we step inside the lift. It's a little creepy. I press the little gold number 4 and the lift whizzes upwards.

"I'm going to get changed," Elethea declares, bounding down the corridor to her room. I can already smell the delicious aroma of food waiting for us. I haven't been mentoring for too long, only a few years, but I already know the drill. Dom mumbles an excuse and goes to change as well. I can't say I blame the poor kids. Elethea's breasts were nearly spilling out of that ridiculous costume of hers.

Elethea skips back out in jeans and long-sleeved shirt, while Dom wanders out at a more dignified pace. We all go to sit down at the table, and I note that Jehovah hasn't arrived yet. Probably out for a night on the town with his Capitolian friends. So long as he's getting sponsors, it doesn't bother me.

"Now I feel decent," Elethea states contentedly.

"You look it, too," I remark, heaping some steaming chicken with Dijon mustard on my plate.

"Yeah, well, I'm not falling out of my clothes now." Elethea shrugs, pouring herself a cup of cloudy apple juice. Dom, like any typical teenage boy, has already started eating, his plate heaped with a small sample of everything.

I inspect them both with a critical eye. They'd done well in the chariots and no doubt would earn some sponsors, but training is different. Dom is more mild and would probably keep to himself, but I can see Elethea as the type who'd try and show off. While Elethea is all wide-eyed innocence – not to mention a heavy dose of arrogance – Dom is more reserved, likely to save his opinion until he'd taken everything in. Personally, I'd put more money on a slow-burning fire rather than an instant spark.

"Training tomorrow," Elethea sighs heavily. "Great. We're going to get eaten alive. We're little."

Instead of correcting her and informing her that she's the only little on, Dom wisely chooses to take another bite of his cauliflower.

"You'll be fine," I assure them, hoping Elethea's negative attitude won't impact on Dom. She might be downcast for now, but tomorrow she'll be all cheeky grins and attempts to hurl her knife right into the heart of something.

"I hope so." Elethea cuts her chicken up into small pieces. "What do we do, then? Focus on survival, or our skills?"

"Try and balance it out," I suggest. I glance over at Elethea and wonder what a weapons a girl so tiny could possibly wield. "What weapons can you use?"

"Small knives," Elethea replies with a hint of pride in her voice. I think she mentioned something about that on the train – boomerang knives. The curved ones that spun through the air with deadly aim, and came whirling back to her.

"Focus with them," I instruct, before turning my attention back to my food. It's been a long day, and I need to eat.

* * *

I sprawl on the couch and sip a drink laced with rum, swilling the glass every now and again. It's only my first night in the Capitol, yet it shouldn't surprise me that already I've had a client to visit. A woman with cat-like eyes and a Cheshire smile who's taken a liking to Dom, and says me being in her bed will pay for him to win. I shudder to think of what Dom might endure if he wins, but Elethea worries me, too. She's young, but already she's almost got a woman's body.

"Why are you up?" A curious voice rouses me from my thoughts, and she's there, rubbing her eyes. She wanders into the kitchen and pours herself some water from the jug, before glancing back at me. She crinkles her little nose when I merely shrug. "Well, that's not much of an answer."

"Can't sleep," I mutter in reply. It's not exactly a lie. The disgust at the things I have to do to try and keep children like little Elethea alive is scarring.

"Why?" She asks, with a child's curiosity.

"Not feeling very well." I don't meet her eyes, raking a hand through my hair. "I'll be okay."

"I worry about you," Elethea says quietly, causing my head to snap up, eyes suddenly sharp as she regards me carefully. She's just a little girl. I'm none of her concern. The things I do to keep her and Dom alive are nothing to do with her. "You seem older than your age. And lonely."

"It's just the Games," I say dismissively, but I can see the panic rising in her green eyes. I can't scare her about the Games. She volunteered for this, she wanted this. I won't shatter her dreams. Elethea has to see the truth for herself.

"Is that what they do to people?" She inquires in a small voice, one that makes me not want to answer.

"It's hard to keep a relationship," I confess softly.

Elethea looks a bit confused. "Romantically?"

"In general," I admit. The only thing I've experienced is meaningless flings with Capitol women, be they old or young. It doesn't matter, so long as they pay. It doesn't matter, even if it leaves a sick taste in my mouth and makes bile rise in my throat.

"You could make friends with other Victors," Elethea suggests, and I find it kind of cute that she's trying to take up this role, as if she can advise me instead of the other way around. "The youngest from 1 aren't much older than you. They'd understand."

"Trust me." I wasn't sure if Gloss and Cashmere were courtesans too, but if they were, I didn't know about it. My voice hitches slightly and there are tears welling in my eyes. Dammit. "They wouldn't."

"Why not?" Elethea persists, truly ignorant to my sadness. "They won, too."

I shake my head ruefully. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," she argues, before she seems to regret her harshness. "So who would understand? Why do you shut people out?"

"El, only a few people would understand." My voice is quiet, and I'm hoping to convey the message that I just want to leave the subject along. She's a pest, but she's also so very innocent, ignorant to the world. "I'm sorry, but you aren't one of them."

She scowls at that. "I'm not a child."

_Yes, you are._ "I know."

"Is that why you're upset?" Elethea tilts her head to the side, observing me carefully as though still trying to make sense of it all. "Because you won?"

I shake my head. It's only a small part of a much larger truth. Elethea, for whatever she likes to say, is just an innocent little girl. She wouldn't even be able to begin to imagine the things I have to try and do to keep my tributes alive. I watch as she bites her lip, green eyes troubled.

"I don't understand."

"Maybe you will one day," I mumble. That'll only happen if she wins, though. Then she'd know what it's like to be a Victor. Inspecting Elethea, I have to admit that she's a pretty thing. Even if she does win, which is unlikely enough, I hope she'll never understand the pain of being sold out. "El, this isn't about winning. It's what about what the Capitol does to some people after they win."

"What do they do?" She asks, all wide eyes and naivety. She's such a pain, in the fact that she's persistent and won't back down. I can't possibly tell her, although I'm tempted to because she's going to die, because she'll never have the chance to give away my secret.

"They make you offers," I say wearily, raking a hand through my hair and taking another sip of my drink, "Offers you can't refuse."


	3. The Careers

**Chapter Three: The Careers**

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**A/N: Again, thank you to all the lovelies that have been reading, reviewing, favouriting and following! Keep up the good work! :D**

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_"Sanctus Espiritus, redeem us from our solemn hour_

_Sanctus Espiritus, insanity is all around us_

_Sanctus Espiritus, is this what we deserve_

_Can we break free from chains of never-ending agony?"_

_- Our Solemn Hour, Within Temptation_

* * *

** Elethea's POV**

I pick up a pair of curved knives and examine them, watching out of the corner of my eye as Dom hefts up a spear. He hurls it at the target, hitting a little off-centre. I'm not too astonished by his strength, but this clear display is an indication of what my district partner is really capable of. Not far away, the rest of the Careers are mucking around – Silver from 1 jumps on her partner's back as he hefts up two axes. Xander is knocked to the ground and the axes go flying as Silver laughs and rolls to her feet.

I ignore the Careers and weigh the knives in my hands, fully aware that they're whispering and looking over at me. What if I throw and miss due to nervousness? I don't like to think I'm apprehensive, but I want to make a good impression. The Careers probably already think I'm a little kid as it is. The boy from 2, Romulus, says something and glances at me. Out of the Careers, he unnerves me the most. Maybe it's because he says too little and stares too much.

I take a deep breath and focus, holding the knife lightly as I remember from my training. I draw my arm back and give a slight flick of my wrist, watching as the knife slices across the dummy's chest, just a thin line, before I catch it as it boomerangs back. In the earlier days, I had trouble catching and would end up with wicked cuts on my hands. When I turn back, I notice Romulus's impassive gaze on me.

Satisfied, I set the knives aside and realise that Dom has likewise given up with the spears for now. I skip over to him and tug at his arm, causing him to look down at me with a slightly annoyed frown, as if I'm embarrassing him.

"Dom! We have to do the survival stuff."

"What?" Dom seems too busy watching Romulus lifting a sword that's nearly the same size as me.

"Survival skills," I repeat slowly, as though that might have more chance getting through to him when he isn't even paying attention. "Like Finnick said."

Dom snaps out of it and sighs. "So now you're taking his advice…"

"When did I not?" I arch an eyebrow. I've always listened to what Finnick says. Sure, I might counter his words with my own, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to totally disregard what he says. "Come on."

Dom follows me over, and we deliberately ignore the whooping and jeering of the other Careers as Romulus hacks off a dummy's head in one clean stroke. I sit down cross-legged and gather up a heavily frayed rope. I can only hope we manage to get our hands on better supplies than this in the arena, because this rope would stand no chance for anything. Dom's eyes dart between the work his nimble fingers are doing, and the Careers. They're now huddled together talking, glancing over at us.

I try and focus on my knots, but it's hard when people are staring. After a few minutes, the red-haired girl from 2 – Melia, I think – trails confidently over to us with Romulus trudging behind her. I look up at the powerful pair from 2, the fierce girl and the muscular boy, as they approach. I try and suppress any apprehension I feel. I'm not their inferior. I might be smaller, but I'm a Career, too.

"Hey," Romulus says casually, in the sort of tone that implies we've met before and are good friends.

"Romulus." Dom's tone is stiff and says we're not friends at all.

Melia smirks down at the pair of us, and the frayed rope in our hands. "Hey, kids."

"I'm not a kid." I can't help but flare up. I'm sick of people treating me like a baby because I'm one of the younger tributes in this year's Games. Melia can't be more than two years older than me, Dom's age.

"You are compared to us," Romulus informs me in that deep baritone voice of his. Compared to him, Dom looks like a weakling. I don't see how some of the tributes from lower districts are meant to survive when they're up against such raw physical power.

"What do you want?" Dom asks, shooting me a glower to warn me to stay quiet, as if I'm embarrassing just by opening my mouth. I glance past the pair from 2 to see Silver and Xander in quiet conversation across the room. There's something else that catches my attention, something a bit unusual. The pairs from 3 and 6 are over by the poisons station, and they seem to have joined up.

"You're from a Career district." Melia examines her nails like we bore her. "You figure it out."

I raise an eyebrow. "Want us to join your little pack?"

Romulus shrugs, but I notice his eyes travel over me. "It is desired."

"Alright." Dom nods slowly, almost hesitantly. We both know that although we may not like the other Careers, it's better to be in the league with them than not. The moment we refuse is the moment we become their number one targets. "We will."

Romulus smirks and inclines his head, clearly pleased by our compliance. I wish I could argue against them, but showing off my spitfire temper is a sure way to make an enemy of those who are meant to be my allies. Romulus walks back over towards the pair from 1, Melia sauntering after him. I watch them go and bite down on my lip.

"Is it really a good idea to join up with them, Dom?"

"Better than being against them." Dom glances at me quizzically, and I can immediately tell that he sees my confidence slipping. I can't let him see me as vulnerable. I won't play the scared little girl to be taken care of. That's not me, it isn't who I am. I want to be seen as tough, not someone who can be picked off easily.

"What if they kill us in our sleep?" I insist. I know I'm being paranoid now, but I'd rather that than end up with my throat being slit. I lapse into silence, knowing that Dom can see my insecurities. Maybe that's his angle: to be the trusted one. He seems gentle and kind, the sort of person you can open up to. But I've seen him throw that spear with deadly aim, and I know he could kill without a second thought.

"One of us stays awake while the other sleeps," Dom suggests sensibly, but even then I know I'll be sleeping restlessly, worried about him looming over me with a knife in his hand, waiting for the opportune moment to strike… "One of us will get out."

"Yeah, one guess as to who that is," I mutter, putting down the frayed ropes. My hands are already beginning to get calluses from tying knots. I stare down at the blisters developing on my fingers. "You're bigger, smarter, stronger. You stand a better chance."

"We _both_ stand a chance," Dom insists firmly, and I stare at him with a slight frown crossing my lips, trying to decipher him. Is he truly so adamant, or is this just another part of his nice-guy act? I'm not sure that I can tell the difference anymore.

"Yeah," I agree rather flatly. The fire that Dom sees inside me, it's starting to burn out. "Yours is just higher."

* * *

"The axe has to be bigger than her."

"Even her district partner finds it amusing."

I grit my teeth against the derogatory whispers of the other Careers as I attempt to heft up the twin axes I'd seen Xander using yesterday. I can barely lift them, it's true, and I'd expected maybe more support from Dom – but he's laughing along with the rest of them. That makes me even madder, even more determined.

"El, stick with knives," Dom insists, his tone amused as he watches my continuing struggle against the weight of the axes.

"Shut up, Dom," I snap at him. Why should I listen to anything he says? He just laughs at me anyway. It stings like I've cut myself, because I thought he really was nice, but now it seems like it was all just an act. "They're all laughing at me. I have to do something. Something to show them I'm not a kid."

I realise after a few more moments of struggle that all I'm doing is humiliating myself even more, making me look stupid and immature. I dump the axes in frustration. Maybe one of the other Careers might be willing to teach me something. Dom doesn't exactly look ready to jump in and help. I resist the strong urge to kick the hilt of the axe, and stalk over to where the other Careers are chatting away.

"Hi there, short stuff," Xander greets joyfully, eliciting a laugh from Romulus. My eyes narrow in irritation. I feel an itchy lump in my throat and I'm humiliated. No, I won't cry, there's no way. Just because it feels like no one's on my side doesn't mean I'm going to be the world's biggest baby about it. I won't become some bad-tempered little brat.

"Don't call me that," I snarl.

He tilts his head to the side challengingly. "Or you'll do what?"

"Leave her alone, Xander." Silver speaks before I can, stepping forward to move between me and her district partner. I'm surprised at her intervention. Before now, no one, not even Dom, was willing to speak up against another Career for me.

"She's a titch," Xander retorts, causing Silver to punch his arm hard enough to make him wince. She tosses back her blonde hair and ignores his mutinous glare, instead turning to face me and folding her arms.

"Need help with the axes?"

I nod slowly. I'm a bit unsure what to make of this. Why would Silver want to help me? It confuses me, but I realise I've got to stop thinking of everyone as solely my enemy. We Careers are allies at first – and maybe that's just what Silver wants, to make a friend of me before we part as enemies. That's if I'm not dead by then.

"Come on." She walks back over to the weapons and I trail after her. Although Silver's probably about seventeen, she isn't too much bigger than me. It give me hope, because if Silver can manage to use an axe, maybe I can as well. I watch as Silver easily picks up one of the axes, swinging it and slicing a dummy's head off.

"Wow," I breathe in awe. "How do you do that? You're not much bigger than me."

"Years of practise." Silver puts the axe in my small hands, correcting my grip as I struggle to hold it up. The other Careers are watching us. Xander is sullen, Melia is flirting with an uninterested Dom, and Romulus…he's just staring, staring at me like he always seems to.

"It's heavy," I complain.

Silver nods. "Just test it out and get used to it."

"Okay." I weight the axe carefully. I don't like the balance of it much. My knives are so much lighter in my hands, so much easier to throw. The axe is bulky and slow. Nevertheless, it'd be good to learn how to use a secondary weapon in case I can't get my hands on any knives at the Cornucopia.

Silver watches as I swing the axe a little in my hands, getting used to the feel of it. She corrects my grip again, before I throw the axe. It's a pathetic throw – it hits the ground a little way away with a dull _thunk._ Although it's only a small effort, I suppose it's better than if I'd dropped the axe on my own feet or something stupid like that.

"Thanks," I say, turning to face Silver. "I prefer my knives, though. Why are you helping me?"

"You need," Silver assures me, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the Careers. "Besides, the other wants to make a meal of you."

"They're too self-absorbed to care," I reply, although Silver's words send shivers down my spine. Are the others really going to try and kill me so soon? What are they plotting behind my back, something Silver doesn't want to tell me about?

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I watch the private sessions with the Gamemakers on the television, and I have to admit that what I've seen so far impresses me. The girl from 1 spins and throws two heavy axes in quick succession. Her partner's demonstration with a sword isn't quite as spectacular, but it's still something. The pair from 2 are both quick and lethal – the girl fires arrows with deadly efficiency, and the boy demonstrates he can use a variety of weapons.

Even District 3 has managed to leave me somewhat impressed by their skills. The boy rewired a circuit to turn on a light bulb. The girl's knowledge of poisons is also to be commended, and for a little, I mull over whether Elethea and Dom should attempt to recruit these two as their allies. They certainly seem useful.

It's Elethea's turn next. She enters the Training Center and I can see that she's nervous. She's fidgeting with her hands, raking her dark hair out of her eyes and examining the range of weapons on display. She bites her lip in consideration and I find myself silently praying that she doesn't try and pick up the axes. To my relief, she instead seizes a pair of throwing knives and paces in a half-circle, facing one of the dummies. Elethea closes her eyes, opens them again and spins the knives in her hands.

At this point, the Gamemakers are still mildly interested. After watching the first three districts intently, they start to get a little bored as the skills of the tributes dwindle along with the number of the district. Admittedly, they're probably also a bit put off by Elethea's youth. She hurls a knife at the target and it hits near the centre – near it, but not dead in the heart of it. Elethea is beginning to panic, I can see it.

She examines her remaining knife and I find myself hoping she won't just ditch the knife in some sort of desperation. She licks her lips and is actually patient for once, weighing the knife in her hand and examining her former hit. I know what she's going to do now, but I know it probably won't work. Elethea wants the second knife to hit straight in the hilt of the first. That would definitely impress the Gamemakers – if she succeeds.

When Elethea hurls the second knife, it strikes right next to the first one, quivering tauntingly. She sucks in a breath and I know she wants to lose her temper, but she can't. She glances at the Gamemakers, who look neither displeased nor impressed. With a gulp, Elethea offers them a slight inclination of her head and then trudges from the Training Center. By the slumped set of her shoulders, I know that this can't mean anything good.


	4. What Makes You Tick

**Chapter Four: What Makes You Tick**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews! I've also decided to add in relevant lyrics to every chapter, so if you want, take a look at the previous chapters! Some Elethea/Dom cuteness in this one :)**

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"_Trying to find out what makes you tick_

_Coz I lie down, sore and sick_

_Do you like that, do you like that?_

_There's a fine love between love and hate."_

_- Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I don't think I've ever been more enraged. A 6?! How had I managed to score that low? All of the other Careers had scored 8 and above! I clench my hands into fists as I watch the television, although I don't really want to see what the other districts got. It'd be like a slap to the face if even the lower districts have done better than me. Dom can't help but chuckle, like he finds my fury amusing.

"6, huh? From a Career?"

"Shut up. I was playing the weak angle." I snarl, although we both know that kind of angle has nothing to do with getting a mediocre score in personal training. Silver and Romulus had both achieved 10! How am I meant to compete with scores like those? "You know that."

"Still." Dom raises his eyebrows. I think he must know how easy I am to rile up, because otherwise, why would he keep attempting to aggravate me? "A 6?"

"I said shut up," I snap, clambering to my feet. Finnick hadn't been impressed, but then again he hadn't been disappointed either, claiming there had been worse scores from our district. Well, if that was true, I'd never heard about it. I make to leave, but it's clear that Dom isn't done mocking me yet. How could I ever have thought him to be my friend?

"Or what?" he demands.

"You must think you're so threatening." I whirl around to face him, green eyes flaring. My small hands clench into fists, although I seriously doubt I can actually manage to do any damage to Dom. "You're not that much older or bigger than me."

"Bet I could overpower you," Dom said, his smugness starting to make my temper boil. Yes, okay, he's a lot bigger and stronger than me. That doesn't necessarily equate to him being better in the arena. He's the smarter one, although I'd never up his ego by telling him that. I draw myself up to my full height of 5'1. "Want to test it out?"

He is so competitive! I shove him in the chest, but he catches my wrists and pins me against the wall, holding me there and towering over me as I thrash like a wild animal. Admittedly, I do feel trapped. But there's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm letting do know his intimidation is working on me.

"Scared?"

"No!" I spit, kicking at his ankles. Physical power doesn't mean anything. Dom steps back, avoiding my kicks, but still holding me in place. I'm fighting with all my might, but Dom's hands around my wrists might as well be steel manacles for how tightly they hold me in place. "The other Careers are much bigger and stronger than you."

Technically, it's only kind of half-true. Melia must be around 5'8, but Silver is only a few inches taller than me. Romulus and Xander are another matter, both being several inches taller than even Dom. I have to crane my neck just to look up at them. I'm getting so sick of being the smallest, the weakest, the youngest.

"You don't scare me," I growl, "So back off."

Dom holds up his hands in surrender, taking a step away from me. I have to wonder at how weird our relationship is. Half the time we're fighting, and then the other half we get along. Then there's also the fact that I admire him, his calm, his drive. Okay, well…it's hard to admit, that maybe I have a bit of a crush on him. But none of that matters, because the Games are in a few days, and at least one of us is going to die.

"Boys always think strength gets people," I huff. Romulus and Xander often arm-wrestled across the table at lunch during our training days, causing Melia to giggle like a little girl and Silver to roll her eyes disinterestedly.

"No, being nice works as well," Dom argues. I have to admit that it's thanks to his politeness and cool that we got an alliance with the other Careers. Melia definitely doesn't want me around, Xander is constantly mocking me. Silver is okay, but Romulus watches me with dangerously empty eyes.

"So what's nice, then?" I challenge, folding my arms over my chest. "Show me how to play nice."

The next thing I know, Dom's kissing me. I stiffen in surprise, before kissing back. Once we've started, it's like we can't stop. Why are we doing this? Does he like me, or does he just think he needs a kiss before he dies? I put my arms around his neck and step up on my toes so that I'm a little taller. Dom pulls me close against him, pressing me against the wall and eliciting a gasp from me. His lips leave mine to trail down my neck, but I'm suddenly embarrassed, my cheeks flaming red. I turn my face.

"Dom, stop."

"Sorry." He draws back and watches intently as I rake a hand through my hair and sigh. We've come too close, way too close. I can't afford to have a romantic relationship with Dom, despite the fact that I think I'm starting to get feelings for him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…" I struggle to find the right words. "Don't want to do anything too much."

"It's fine." Dom's looking at me differently now. Maybe he's thinking that I'm only fourteen and we shouldn't have kissed like that. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it so far."

"I guess you're just older and…you're ready for stuff I'm not." I wrap my arms around myself. Why can't things just be simple? I kind of wish we were fighting again, because that way, I wouldn't want to kiss him so much.

Dom watches me closely. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I exhale deeply. "Just going to be the laughing stock of the Careers.

"Well, then, show them you aren't something to laugh at." Dom replies simply. It's such a Dom-like thing to say that I can't help but smile, although I don't really know how I'm meant to prove myself worthy now.

"I'm supposed to be playing weak though," I ruminate aloud. Tomorrow the interviews commence. Can I still play weak when natural fire is trying to burn its way out of me? I'm strong despite my small size and young age. The only thing is, the rest of the Careers don't have those factors holding them back. "Xander and Romulus are way over six foot. How am I meant to fight them?"

"Don't," Dom advises me, and I'm struck when I think how good a Victor he'd make, how good a mentor. "Let them turn on each other."

"Come on." I smile and impulsively kiss his cheek before taking his hand. I'm tired of being alone, of staring up at the ceiling and imagining myriad horrible deaths for myself. I need company and warmth. A friend. I need Dom. "Let's go back to my room."

Dom flushes and I immediately realise he's take my words the wrong way. I feel my cheeks heating up and know I must be going tomato red. I can't help a little giggle, but I press my hand over my mouth.

"I'm fourteen, I don't want to..."

"I didn't mean it like that, I don't want anything sexual," Dom insists, noticing my discomfort about the subject. I mean, sure, I know about sex, but I didn't mean to make any implications to say that I wanted to have sex with Dom.

"I just want someone to sleep with," I murmur, running my hands up and down my arms. I gaze at him quizzically and he nods, following me into my room. I change into my pajamas in the bathroom, examining my reflection critically. Why am I doing this? Why am I getting close to Dom when it's only going to bring heartbreak?

By the time I walk back out, Dom is sitting on the bed, shirtless. I lie down and he flops beside me. I curl close, my dark hair brushing against his chin. He puts an arm around me and his bare chest is warm against my fingers.

"Sometimes I lie here and wonder if it's going to hurt," I whisper, causing Dom's arm to tighten around me slightly. I bury my face in my pillow and although I'm completely silent, there are tears running down my cheeks.

* * *

I toy with my hands nervously, playing with the hem of my green chiffon dress. It's going to be my turn to be interviewed soon. The others have all gone out and I've seen the confidence they exuded. Like Finnick said, they all had their own angles to play. Xander was easygoing and charming, yet not to be underestimated. Silver was cool and calm. Melia was flirtatious and fun-loving. Romulus was a ruthless killer.

As Caesar Flickerman interviews the tributes from District 3, I wait nervously for my turn. I'm wearing a one-strap green dress that clings to my form. It's not modest, but it's definitely not as revealing as the dresses Melia and Silver had been wearing. The earrings I wear jingle and get caught in my dark hair. Dom reaches across and squeezes my hand reassuringly, but I quickly snatch it back.

"Now, from District 4, the one and only…ELETHEA AMBROSE!"

I jerk to my feet and walk out onto the stage, trying not to be intimidated by the number of people who are in the crowd. Caesar and the audience clap me on, and I take my seat beside Caesar. This year his hair is a shocking shade of green and he looks across at me with a Cheshire cat grin.

"So, Elethea. Tell us, what made you volunteer for the Games?"

"Well." I think about it momentarily. My voice gets stuck in my throat, but I find it again after one terrifying moment. "I wanted to bring pride to my district."

Caesar nods understandingly. Clearly my response is nothing new, and I know that's no good. I need to stand out, to give sponsors a reason to pick me over the other tributes. I take a deep breath and wait for Caesar's next question.

"Tell us about your mother and brother," Caesar insists.

"My mum lost her brother to the 50th Hunger Games," I admit. It had been before my time, so I don't really know much about it. "My little brother Leon is eleven. He wants to do District 4 proud as well someday."

Caesar nods, considering my words. "What do you like most about the Capitol?"

I force a smile. I couldn't say I hated it here because it was a place of death, and that nothing good for the districts could come from here.

"I love how everything is so colourful."

Caesar smiles and the buzzer goes off, prompting me to get to my feet. I smile and wave my way off-stage to the cheering audience and pass Dom in the corridor on my way out. I grip his wrist tightly, urgency coming over me. I understand the need for privacy, especially between the two of us.

"Don't tell them anything about us, Dom."

"What do you mean _us_?" Dom inquires, raising an eyebrow quizzically. I can't tell whether he's playing along or whether our kiss had truly meant nothing to him. Either way, I surmise that the kiss _will_ mean nothing to anyone once we hit the arena.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

Elethea paces back and forth as Dom watches her from the couch, trying to suppress a yawn. She seems on edge, although I know she'd never admit it. Tomorrow, the Games will begin. It's a nerve-wracking prospect for anyone, even a Career tribute. Elethea immediately spins around to face me and begins firing questions.

"So, food. Where do we look for food?"

"Anywhere you can," I reply, sitting down and watching the restless girl as she frowns.

"What happens if other tributes get our weapons?"

"Fight to get them back." I spread myself over a couch. She's bombarding me mercilessly, but I know that she needs answers. Survival is a necessity.

"What happens if the other Careers turn on us?" Elethea inquires. It's a pessimistic outlook, but you always have to be prepared for the worst when it comes to the Games. I lean back and wish she had a remote on which I could press 'mute'.

"You run," I reply simply. It's the only thing they can do. If Districts 1 and 2 betray them, young tributes like Dom and Elethea won't stand a chance unless they got out of there right away. I watch as the dark-haired girl bites her lip.

"Do you think they will?"

"They shouldn't." My tone grows a little sterner and my words are directed at Elethea. I know she has a tendency to flare up when it's inconvenient. "Be careful with how you act."

"In other words, be nice?" Dom pipes up from the other couch. Elethea glances over at him, but a scowl crosses her face as she turns back to me.

"What's wrong with how I act?"

"You aren't nice," I inform her.

"I'm nice to Dom," Elethea protests, but that just goes to prove my point. It's the Careers she needs to win over, especially considering her young age and lack of physical strength. I've noticed the blooming relationship between my two tributes, and I think I'd prefer it if they hated one another. The arena can do strange things to people, and I know that one will be shattered when the other dies.

"Be nice to everyone," I say, raking a hand through my bronze hair.

"I'm not being nice to those jerks from 2," Elethea snaps, her temper flaring once more. I know then that it will be her undoing. She just can't control herself, not to mention that she's as stubborn as a mule. If I find the girl frustrating, then the other Careers would certainly gut her in no time. "I could just kill them in their sleep."

"That's a cowardly act," I tell her coldly, watching as her little hands ball into fists. I know she sees survival as coming before everything, but I thought she had a bit more humanity than that. Now I find myself wondering if Elethea Ambrose will be one of the monsters.

"So is throwing nets over people before you take them out with a trident," Elethea hisses in response. My jaw clenches. I can't help it, she really has a way of knowing exactly where it hurts. I push myself to my feet. If she's going to be such a bitch about things, why should I even bother helping her?

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"No, you aren't," I snarl at her, glowering in her direction. "You always open your mouth before you think what you're saying. Maybe you're right. Maybe Dom's the only hope for a District 4 Victor."

I stride out of the room, but I don't go back to my own. I want to hear what's being said – not for the sake of eavesdropping. I want to know if my tributes have the ability to sort themselves out when I'm not around, because they won't have my guidance tomorrow when they're in that arena.

"You're a genius," Dom says icily.

"What does it matter what's cowardly?" Elethea demands, her tone defensive. "Wouldn't you do anything to survive?"

I press my head against the wall and wait for Dom's response.

"No." His voice is firm. "I'd rather look someone in the eyes when I killed them."

"What if you knew they'd kill you if you were on even ground?" Elethea persists, and I have to agree with her line of questioning. "Would you let them kill you just to keep your honour?"

"It's the one thing the Capitol can't take," Dom replies softly, and I have to refrain from walking back in and correcting him. The Capitol has the ability to take away from you everything that you once were, until you're just a hollow shell. Until there's nothing left.


	5. Let The Games Begin

**Chapter Five: Let The Games Begin**

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews. Just a quick response to Cara: I know that Dom and Elethea's relationship seems typical now, and that's entirely the point. However, I promise you that Dom's death and where they end up is not typical in the least. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_"And it finds me, _

_The fight inside is coursing through my veins_

_And it's raging,_

_The fight inside is breaking me again."_

_- Fight Inside, Red_

* * *

** Dom's POV**

I watch Elethea sleep peacefully, in blissful unawareness of what today is. Her head is rested on my chest and I keep an arm around her, holding her small body close to mine. She's so close that I can see all the little freckles across her nose. A knock at the door makes the dark-haired girl stir, and Finnick walks in, freezing. I stretch myself out and Elethea sits up, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey, Finnick," I say casually.

"Want me to go?" Finnick inquires, glancing between the two of us. Wait a minute…he doesn't actually think that Elethea and I had sex, does he? Elethea crawls into my bed at night just so that I'll hold her. I've found out that's what she really needs, or wants. Just comfort.

"It's cool," Elethea responds.

"You two need to get ready," Finnick reminds us, before he turns and walks out. Elethea bites her lip, looking nervous. I can see the panic written across her face now, and I know it's suddenly dawned on her that today, the 69th Hunger Games begin. She crosses over to the window and places a hand against the glass.

"You okay?" I ask as I watch her, although I know that she's not. Neither am I. Elethea always thinks I'm the smart one. I'm just polite because I know there's a better chance of surviving with friends around me, people who think they can trust me. I don't intend to backstab anyone, but as long as I can keep the other Careers amiable for a while, I might be able to live.

"No." Elethea's voice is soft and she turns to face me. "I'm going to die."

"We both probably are." My voice is bleak. There's no point in lying. Despite my diplomatic efforts, it really comes down to the sheer determination. "Guess we can't help it."

Elethea sits down on the bed and starts hyperventilating. I can see that she's about a second away from losing her cool and doing something like screaming. I sit beside her and put my arm around her and pull her close as she tugs her knees to her chest.

"Mum lost her brother to the Games and now she'll lose me," Elethea whispers.

"You can win this," I assure her. I know that she can, I can. But we can't both win. That's the problem here. "The other Careers will kill each other off."

"If either of us wins, it'll be you," Elethea informs me, and I can see by how earnest her green eyes are that she means it. "You're smarter. You have better tactics."

The next thing I know, Elethea has climbed into my lap, shyness forgotten. She kisses me passionately, wrapping her arms around my neck. I slide mine around her waist, and I know what's driven this. It could be our last day on this planet for all we know. Her lips finds my neck and I can't help but groan as she trails butterfly kisses down my skin. One of my hands fists in her dark hair and the other trails upwards, roaming over her breasts. She draws back quickly.

"Sorry," I mutter, averting my eyes. Is it the thought of going too far and then mourning the loss later? I shouldn't have touched her in such a way. She's only fourteen, after all. But I want her, crave her like she's the sun. I shouldn't lust after something so innocent…but is it lust? I don't think it is. It's not sex or anything of that nature I want from Elethea. I just want to hold her close, protect her, give her whatever she needs. She's only a child. She's become a weakness I can't afford.

"Don't be sorry," Elethea admonishes as she slips out of my lap, playing with her hands nervously. "Would you take it back?"

I shake my head vigorously. "No."

"Neither would I," she confesses, drawing back after I plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. She turns and walks out of the room and I swallow, knowing that it's time to prepare ourselves for the inevitable.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I swallow hard and keep my expression resolute as I step onto the metal plate that will take me up to the Cornucopia. As it rises, I start fighting back the panic that already threatens to consume me. The Careers are the deadliest force in the arena – but what if they turn on me? What if I'm not quick enough to stop some lower district tribute from killing me? I force down all my fears. I need to concentrate.

When my eyes accustom to the bright light, I note that we're in what appears to be an old warehouse, open to the sky in some parts, where the sun streams through. The Cornucopia is right in the middle, a pyramid with three metal tiers. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, watching the countdown with an increasing heartbeat. I'm not sure what's outside the warehouse, but this year's arena is decidedly more urban than some.

I cast around for my weapons and find my knives there, on the second tier of the pyramid. _Stay back,_ Finnick had said…but I want those knives. The gong goes off before I even know what's happening. Infuriated at myself for wasting time deliberating, I sprint towards the pyramid. Across from me, Dom is shaking his head fervently. _No, don't._ I slow my steps, not knowing what to do.

The girl from District 5 is the first to the Cornucopia, only to be viciously decapitated by Romulus as he gets his hands on a sword. Silver is there next, swinging axes at whichever tributes are stupid enough to cross her. I watch with a sickness rising in my throat as the boy from District 7 tries to run, only to stumble into a cage. A drill turns on and descends from the roof, and I turn my face. I don't want to see his gruesome fate, but I can hear his agonised screams.

On the third tier up, Melia is laughing crazily.

The boy from District 10 comes at me before I know what's happening. He has no weapons, but he's about Dom's height and no doubt figures he can kill me with his bare hands. I panic completely, lashing out at him with small fists. He spits blood in my face and his hands tighten around my throat. I choke and claw at him. Then my hands find his neck and I push down on his pressure points.

District 10 hits the ground groaning, and Melia scuttles over, all too eager to finish the job. Disgusted by her brutality and the screams that ring out around me, I pull myself up the Cornucopia and seize a hold of my knives. That's where I stay, knees pulled to my chest, as on the ground below, the bloody violence continues.

* * *

I frantically wipe blood from my face as I exit the warehouse along with the other Careers. The arena looks like an abandoned city, tall buildings in varying states of decay, a car here and there. The streets are so old that the white lines down the middle have almost faded completely. My boots clack on the sidewalk. The cannons have already gone off, but I hadn't bothered to count. We head into one of the taller buildings, which seems to have been an office a long time ago, but we don't head any higher than ground level.

"That was awesome." Melia sits down and crosses her legs with a gleeful smile.

"Sadist much?" Xander mocks as he sits down in a rickety old chair.

Silver glances across at her district partner. "It was pretty fun, Xan."

Leaning in the doorway, Romulus smirks darkly. "I agree."

I shudder at their bloodthirst. I can never understand how they find something so horrific to be fun. Xander watches disdainfully as I clean the blood off my arms. I know that as of yet, I haven't even made a kill.

"Oh great, a weakling."

"Are you alright?" Dom sits beside me and glances at me, concerned. He'd killed a tribute in the bloodbath. I don't even know what district they were from. It shouldn't matter now, but somehow, it still does.

"I just…it wasn't what I expected," I stammer. He nods and puts an arm around me and I lean my head on his shoulder, grateful for his sympathy. I watch mutely as he cleans the blood off his spear. "How many of us are left, apart from the six of us?"

"Umm…" Xander contemplates it, and I feel a wave of contempt come over me at his stupidity. He's definitely more brawn than brains. "Don't know."

"Five," Silver informs him. It surprises me that so many were killed in the bloodbath – more than half. To my knowledge, the five that are alive are the pair from 3, the pair from 6 and the girl from 9. A shiver runs down my spine as I realise it won't take much to break the Career pack apart now.

"Romulus, let's go hunting!" Melia exclaims, leaping up enthusiastically – as if they weren't just brutally killing other kids not an hour ago in the bloodbath. I stare at her incredulously. Romulus, the unspoken leader, shrugs.

"Okay."

"You, kid." Melia turns her attention on me. "Stay here and guard our stuff."

"Killing time." Xander smirks and pushes himself up, and I notice even Dom clambers to his feet, grabbing his spear. I'm somewhat relieved that Melia wants me to stay, especially because hunting means the possibility of finding surviving tributes. "Hey, Silver, you coming?"

Silver leans back against a wall. "I'm staying here, too. Make sure the girl isn't killed."

"Fine." Xander rolls his eyes, clearly displeased by her decision.

"My name's not girl," I protest, before I can think to keep quiet. I hate how they're all treating me like I'm some baby that they need to keep watch over. "It's Elethea."

"Ooh, a spitfire," Melia teases, before following Romulus as he leads the way out of the building. I ignore their laughter and whooping as they go. Instead I rummage around and organise the supplies, seeing what we have in the various packs we've managed to salvage.

"You alright?" Silver asks, causing me to turn and glance at her before removing some of the medical supplies from the packs and putting them all together.

"I don't like them," I mutter, not that my opinion really counts for anything. "Xander's stupid and Melia's a bitch. Although, I know that I probably come off as a weakling."

"Only a little," Silver states calmly. Maybe she notices my reluctance to kill, my reluctance to throw myself out in a dangerous situation. "You have common sense."

* * *

**Dom's POV**

"I vote we kill the kid," Melia suggests, skipping through the ruined city like she doesn't have a care in the world. I don't like her at all. She's way too pleased about something that I see as a grim affair. Killing is something solemn, it's not something that should be taken lightly or poked fun at.

"I vote if you touch her, I kill you," I snap at her, my temper already stretched to breaking point and it's only Day 1.

"If you killed me, Romulus would kill you," Melia informs me simply, but although her tone is careless, the threat shines out from eyes. Her voice turns teasing as she turns to grin at Romulus. "I think he's in love. Anyway, where'd all the fun go?"

"In my pants," Xander replies, seemingly unable to resist a suggestive jibe. I roll my eyes, wondering whether I'm going to have to deal with this sexual humour from the other Careers the entire time.

"Xander!" Melia slaps his arm, but she's laughing. "Cameras, stupid. Plus, you're not my type."

He raises his eyebrows. "You have a type?"

Romulus grins. "It's me."

"Romulus likes his women younger anyway," Xander throws Romulus a glance that I don't miss. "He was so checking out El."

"Come off it." Melia makes a disgusted noise, but I freeze in my tracks. I've noticed the amount of attention Romulus pays my district partner. He just sort of stares at her, like he can see right into his soul. Melia nudges me in the ribs. "Why so quiet, Dom? Jealous?"

"No," I reply. I'm not an easily irritable person, but I think Melia's the sort of girl who can get on any sane person's nerves. It's probably a good idea to keep her away from Elethea, because I can see things would go badly between them. "I'm listening."

Xander stops for a moment as well, listening carefully. Before I know what's doing, he dives into an alleyway, much to the astonishment and amusement of the rest of us, before he drags out the boy from District 8. Melia bursts out laughing, but immediately stops when the boy struggles, driving his knife into Xander's stomach and tearing off down the alleyway. Xander staggers and cough, putting a hand over the wound.

Melia snarls like a feral beast, chasing District 8, who has panicked and begun to scale a fire ladder that leads into a building. He presses himself against the ladder as she fires an arrow at him. Annoyed, Melia fits another arrow, this time hitting him in the arm. The red-haired girl turns her attention upon the rest of us.

"Dom, darling, spear him down for me?" Her voice is saccharine sweet, but her eyes are glittering with insanity. I don't object, because I know it's better that I kill this boy than let Melia torture him slowly. I throw my spear and catch the boy in the neck. Melia giggles and claps as District 8 hits the ground with a crunch, his cannon going off. She runs over and hugs me, kissing my cheek. "That was so awesome!"

"Thanks," I reply flatly, before noticing that Xander has become evidently annoyed at me being the centre of Melia's attention. "Something stuck up your ass, Xander?"

"Yeah, your dicks," Xavier snarls, a hand still pressed to the wound in his stomach.

"No, you just wish it was." I yank the spear from the dead boy's neck. A part of me wants to lean down and close those wide, terrified and forever open eyes. But I don't, because it's showing weakness, and that I can't afford.

"I'd rather Melia over you any day," Xander informs me in almost a growl as we head back down the alleyway. We enter the office-like building that we'd dumped our stuff in and Elethea immediately looks up, her green eyes as wide as those of the boy I'd killed.

"Who died?"

"Guy from 8. Speared him down." I sit beside Elethea, watching as she bites her lip and nods. She looks shaken up. What happened to the confident, apparently fearless girl she'd been before the Games? "You alright?"

"You should have seen it, El," Melia says gleefully, eyes sparkling. Silver moves across to address the matter of Xander's wound, as Elethea glares pure hatred at the District 2 girl. "It took ages. He was choking on his own blood and everything."

"It was awesome," Romulus agrees enthusiastically.

"What?" Elethea shoots me an almost betrayed look, and I'm reminded that she's little more than a child after all. "It wasn't quick? You could have killed him outright."

Melia claps delightedly. "That's gorgeous, she's so upset!"

I watch as Elethea gets to her feet and staggers over to a corner, raking her hair back and throwing up. I walk over and watch as she wipes a hand across her mouth. She's shaking. She looks so small and vulnerable. She retches and I hold her dark hair back as she throws up again, although I know my hand soothingly rubbing her back won't do anything to comfort her at all.


	6. Night of the Hunter

**Chapter Six: Night of the Hunter**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews so far! Just a quick warning, this chapter contains attempted rape, nothing too extreme though.**

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_"Pray to your god, open your heart_

_Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark_

_Cover your eyes, the devil inside_

_One night of the hunter, one day, I will get revenge."_

_ - Night of the Hunter, 30 Seconds to Mars_

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**Elethea's POV **

It hasn't taken long to figure out that the surviving tributes might be more trouble than we expected. Most of the day we sit in the rundown building, bored and thinking up ways to entertain ourselves while three of us go on patrol. In the middle of Day 3, the two tributes from District 2 and Xander return…but not in a good state. Xander, who is already starting to succumb to his injury from the District 8 boy, is very pale. Melia's face is spattered in blood. Romulus just looks furious.

"What happened?" Silver looks up from a game of Asshole she and Dom were playing with half-rotten cards they managed to find crumpled in one of the desk drawers. She pushes herself to her feet, eyes immediately flicking to Xander. He might be an idiot, but he's still her district partner. If there's anyone's live she'd save, it would be hard.

"Districts 3 and 6 have teamed up," Romulus spits, striding through and angrily kicking the cards, so they go fluttering. I don't see how that's so bad, but I don't comment. I don't want to get on Romulus's bad side, not when he's in a mood like this.

"I thought they were pretty hopeless," Dom remarks, and even his tone is tentative. Melia leans against the wall, wiping blood from her face. I'm not sure if it's hers or the other tributes', but I didn't hear any cannons, so I'm guessing none of them are dead.

"They have a car," she practically snarls the words, spitting out a mangled tooth. "They managed to get one of the fucking cars up and running. I have no idea how, but they're obviously some smart little shits."

I freeze up. This new alliance, these techies from 3 and their mates from 6, have a weapon far more powerful than any of our knives or swords. They might not know how to drive properly, but that doesn't matter. If they have managed to get a car up and running, we're right to fear them. Who knows what else they're capable of? They can move around this ruined city at a speed that we can't match.

"We need to move up a few floors." Dom, ever the practical one, starts grabbing our packs. "That way, we'll see and hear the car and be able to prepare before they come up for us."

It's a smart idea. "I agree."

"What about the girl from District 9?" Silver folds her arms. "Is she with them, or not?"

"I don't know!" Romulus growls. He's seeming very agitated about this whole thing, and it suddenly occurs to me that the huge, intimidating boy from District 2 is _afraid._ He can't predict these other tributes. They obviously tried to attack them and ended up worse. Plus if Districts 3 and 6 have recruited 9 as well, they come dangerously close to matching our own numbers.

"Look. Let's just head upstairs." Dom's tone is placid and calm. He doesn't want to start any trouble and he certainly doesn't want a fight to break out among us. "Then when can decide what we're going to do about this, alright?"

* * *

I flick my torch on and off. Light, darkness. Light, darkness. I don't know what the time is, but I'd guess around midnight. Because Romulus is so paranoid about the techie alliance coming for us, one of us has to be on watch at all times. In the earlier hours, the car revved threateningly up and down the streets – which only confirmed my fears, that this wasn't all some sick joke the other Careers were attempting to play on me. Since around ten, things have gone quiet. Too quiet.

"El."

I jump at the sudden sound of Romulus's voice. I didn't even realise that he was awake, but he is, sitting up in his sleeping bag, the slivers of moonlight from the shattered glass throwing his face into sharp relief, into darkness and light. He looks scary. I shift a little, playing with my torch distractedly.

"Romulus. You should be getting sleep."

"Not tired," he responds stubbornly, sitting beside me. I keep playing with the torch, glancing at the other Careers. Dom is the furthest away, positioned right near the door. For some reason, this sends unpleasant chills up my spine. Romulus is watching me with that intent expression of his, and he puts an arm around my shoulders. It feels like spiders creeping along my skin and I shift away a little. Romulus just pulls me closer, and alarm flares through me. Something isn't right here.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, my voice hitching slightly as Romulus closes any distance that was between us. He leans in and I think he's going to whisper something to me, but then his lips are on my neck, trailing up and down. "Stop it!"

Panic floods through me and I squirm, twisting away from him. I try and back away, but the sleeping bag is slippery and I slither around on it, trying to escape. Romulus lunges and forces me down so that I'm pressed down on the sleeping bag. At first I'm scared he's going to kill me and I can't move, but then he smirks, and makes no move for his sword, and I scream because I understand.

He slaps me across the face, so hard that I don't think to scream again, because there's enough power behind the blow to make my vision whirl. I know why it's me. I'm the smallest, the youngest, the weakest, the easy target. Then there's the fact that I defy Romulus, as neither Silver nor Melia tries to. He wants to show me my place, what exactly I'm worth: nothing more than dirt.

"P-please, no," I beg. I push at his broad chest, but he easily pins my wrists above my head with one hand. How can I even think to fight him? He's more than a foot taller than me, and so much stronger. His free hand moves up my body and finds my breasts, squeezing none too gently. I whimper, out of either humiliation or fear. No boy has ever touched me like this, not even Dom. It's invasive and terrifying and _I don't want it._

Romulus releases my wrists when he realises I've seen the futility of fighting back. He runs a hand up my leg and it's like insects running all over my skin, an infestation of them. I bite my lip and there's something hot and wet running down my cheeks, tears of shame as Romulus's hands continue to roam my body. His hands find the hem of my shirt and slide beneath it and I tense, renewing my struggles.

He easily pins me down on the sleeping bag, that twisted smirk across his lips as I sob desperately. I cry silently at the knowledge that he'll do whatever he wants to me in the dark, and I won't be able to do anything about it. The slivers of light dance across his face. His hands push up under my bra and I cry harder, barely able to breathe. His hands knead my bare breasts and although he can't see me, although my shirt still on, it's the contact of his skin on mine that makes me spit in his face.

He wipes the spit off and backhands me sharply, causing me to cry out in pain. Anger twists his face, anger at my defiance. He grips my neck and I meet his gaze, even if my eyes are filled with tears.

"Do it," I say hoarsely, because surely anything has to be better than this torture of his, the humiliation he's putting me through just by touching me. "I'd rather you killed me."

"I won't kill you," Romulus says lightly, sliding my shirt further up my body so that my stomach is exposed. He starts fiddling around and in the dark, I hear him undoing his pants and I squirm in absolute horror. "Yet."

* * *

**Dom's POV**

It's the cry that rouses me from my sleep, sharp and pained. I stir and at first think it was a nightmare. I seem to be having a lot of nightmares lately. But when I open my eyes and look around, I can see that it's a horrific reality. Two people seem to be wrestling in the dark. When my eyes adjust, I can see it clearly. Romulus is on top of Elethea, pinning her down on a sleeping bag. Her shirt is hiked up and I can hear her crying, hear the definitive zipping sound of Romulus undoing his pants.

Suddenly, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I know what Romulus is trying and I can't let him do it, even if it means earning his enmity and meaning he might kill me. Elethea's just a girl, she's only fourteen – but that's why Romulus picked her, because he likes the fight, because he knows this is one she'll lose. I scramble out of my sleeping bag and push myself to my feet.

"Romulus, leave her alone."

They both look surprised. Elethea's face is wet with tears that still linger in her eyes. Shock crosses her face – but also hope. Romulus is still straddling her, but he glares up at my intervention. He doesn't look at all pleased to see me. His pants are slung low on his hips, undone, and I'm even more disgusted by the fact that he has an erection, as if Elethea's pleas and struggles turn him on.

"Or what?" he challenges.

"Come on, she's just a kid." I try and reason with him, because as much as I want to beat him to a pulp, I know I'd never win that fight. Maybe I can convince him that Elethea isn't worth his time. "Get off."

Romulus heaves a sigh and climbs off Elethea, zipping up his pants. He hauls her up by the hair, but Elethea immediately twists free. She runs over to me, nearly slipping on the sleeping bag, and when she collides with me, she fists her little hands in my shirt and clings to me. I realise how much she's shaking as I hold her close, how afraid Romulus has made her. My desire to gut him has never been stronger.

"She has preferences," Romulus sneers.

"She's fourteen, she's a kid," I insist, unable to keep the anger from rising in my voice no matter how hard I try. "She doesn't want to screw anyone."

Elethea buries her face in my shirt and refuses to let me go. I can hear her sobbing quietly, frightened because of what might have happened. I feel nauseous at the knowledge that Romulus probably would have raped Elethea if I hadn't woken up when I did. I stroke her hair back from her face, feeling her wet tears seeping through my shirt.

"El, it's okay." I assure her, softening my voice for her benefit. "He's not going to hurt you again."

"So you think…" Romulus mutters, staring at the frightened girl with her face buried in my shirt. She clutches at me tighter, whimpering softly. I swear a silent oath, that I will protect Elethea from Romulus no matter the cost. He's always been a horny piece of scum, easily distracted by the flirtations of Melia. She was easy, but he'd wanted a challenge. I'd seen him watching Elethea. I should have known that this would happen.

"If you touch her again…"

"I already did touch her." Romulus laughs, but his hand is creeping towards the hilt of his sword. I stiffen, knowing things aren't going to go done well. "She's got nice boobs, for a kid."

"Just shut up," I snarl. I'm normally the peacemaker of the Careers, but I can't stand the way Romulus speaks about Elethea. "Don't talk about her like that."

He steps forward, and I realise how much bigger than me he is. He completely dwarfs Elethea. I watch as he makes to draw his sword – but then there's a sudden brightness that makes me reel. Elethea slips from my grasp and Romulus curses. Shielding my eyes, I wince as I try and adjust to the sudden light. The other three Careers are shifting and stirring at the sudden change. I realise the lights have suddenly gone on, fluorescent and glaring down at us relentlessly.

Elethea has run over the window and is staring outside as in the other buildings of the ruined city, lights are starting to flicker on. She turns and stares at me, biting her lip, her expression troubled. Silver pushes herself up and her eyes are wide with horror. I slowly begin to understand what it means that the power is suddenly online.

"Is the car there?" Silver rushes to the window, nudging Elethea aside and glancing outside, her entire frame tensing. I can hear footsteps downstairs and I know what's happened. The techie alliance has managed to get the lights back on, everywhere. If they've done that, if they know that much about technology, then they are limitless. Suddenly, we Careers are no longer the most powerful players in this arena.

I hear the scampering in the stairwell and heft up my spear. Only, it's too soft to be the footsteps of other tributes. Then they swarm into the light all at once – rats the size of dogs. Melia's scream rents through the room and there's a scramble for weapons…but they're not after us. They run straight for the packs, the food, and start tearing into them with teeth as long and sharp as knives.

"Run!" It's Xander who leads the charge down the stairs and away from the creatures. We all know there's no chance of getting our packs back from the creatures who even now devour them. I know why we're fleeing – because once the food in our packs has been consumed, we're the next things on the menu, unless we can get out of range as quickly as possible.


	7. Run For Your Life

**Chapter Seven: Run For Your Life**

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**A/N: Thank you all so much for the awesome reviews! Hope you like this chapter, please let me know what you think!**

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_"Don't put your life in someone's hands_

_They're bound to steal it away_

_Don't hide your mistakes coz they'll find you, burn you_

_Then he said, if you want to get out alive,_

_Run for your life."_

_- Get Out Alive, 3 Days Grace_

* * *

** Elethea's POV **

We wind up in another building on the fourth floor up, panting and out of breath. My legs hurt from running, my stomach too. My breasts hurt from Romulus's rough pawing at them, although that's a shameful occurrence I keep to myself. I don't want to think about what might have happened if not for Dom's intervention. I can already tell that the event has changed me, although I don't quite know how yet. I'm scared of Romulus, but there's a steely determination rising up inside of me…a part of me hungering for vengeance.

"What the _hell_ were they?" Melia spits the words like they're a poison on her lips, like the rest of us will actually know the answer. I know from her terrified screams when the huge rats came at us that she was frightened of them. Mutts, I'd bet. No rats get that big, not even down in the sewers of District 4. I know because Leon and I used to play hide and seek down there. He'd come crying to me when the rats ran over his shoes.

I notice that Dom sits close to me. His gaze keeps darting over to Romulus, and I know what he's thinking. He's worried the boy from District 2 will try and finish what he started. I shiver, keeping my knives close. If Romulus tries anything like that again, I'll slice him open. Melia sits down and curls her knees to her chest, raking her hands through her red hair. I watch impassively, because I've never really cared much for Melia.

"Told you they'd be here."

A smug voice makes all of us look up, and that's when realise the techie alliance has found us. I jump to my feet, only to realise that the weapons in their hands are like ours – swords, bows. Thank god for that, because if they'd managed to advance their weapons, we'd be so screwed. The two from 3 are small and thin as I remembered, but the girl from 9 is nearly Silver's height. The boy from 6 is the tallest, standing at nearly Xander's height. There's a grin on his face as he twirls a sword in his hand, but I can tell he doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

"You lot," Xander's voice is a low growl. He reaches for his sword and the girl from 9 nocks an arrow. I know that Xander is still recovering from the wound District 8 dealt him. If any of these kids manage to get him good, he's done for.

Then suddenly it's pandemonium, like an explosive that's gone off. The small pair from 3 converge on Melia and Dom. The boy from 6 goes at Romulus, while Xander and Silver are left to deal with the wickedly fast girl from 6. And me? I find myself face to face with the girl from 9. I throw myself to the ground and the arrow flies over me. My heart hammers in my chest and I wonder what would happen if I hadn't reacted so quickly.

I roll to my feet, pulling out a knife as I go, and wing it at the girl from 9. She snarls as it hits her in the arm, and I find myself charging headlong at her as she reaches for another arrow. Sure, it's totally stupid. But I figure that I stand more of a chance against the girl in close combat, because if she was good at it, she wouldn't have picked the bow as her weapon. She's bigger than me, maybe by a few inches. I grab her arm and spin her like a top, twisting it behind her back.

A coarse scream makes me look around, before I see Xander pursuing the girl from 6. My moment's distraction is enough. The girl from 9 jabs her elbow into my ribs and I groan in pain, releasing her instinctively. She smirks and draws another arrow – but she doesn't fire. I find myself backing up, hands raised above my head as if in surrender. Then I realise what the girl from 9 is doing when I turn to look behind me.

We're four floors up and there's an elevator shaft only a few metres back from where I stand. Either she's going to shoot me down, or she's going to force me to back into the elevator shaft. I swallow hard and that's when I notice Silver has turned her attention upon me and the girl from 9. Romulus snarls and knocks the boy from 6 to the ground, and the girl from 9 follows me like a puppet on strings as I take one slow step after another backwards, towards the elevator shaft.

"I thought you were the clever one," the girl from 9 says disdainfully, tilting her head to the side in puzzlement. "No, wait, that was your district partner."

"Well, where's your district partner?" I retaliate, causing her face to darken. I take another step backwards, noticing Silver advancing on the girl from behind. I have to keep her distracted, but I move much further back and I'm going down that elevator shaft. I need to get her closer to me, somehow. "You don't seem to be much good at hand-to-hand combat."

She laughs. "You're stalling, District 4."

"Elethea!" The shout comes from behind District 9. I wheel out of the way as the girl spins around, right to face Silver. The blonde rips the bow from her hand and pushes her hard in the shoulders so she staggers. Just when it looks like District 9 will recover her balance, Silver kicks her in the chest, so that she stumbles even further back – into the elevator shaft. I turn my face from her awful screams and the sickening crunch that follows.

Her cannon goes off and I sigh in relief, before spinning around as another cannon goes off. Dom is still in the room, clutching a bleeding arm, but the others have left. A scream of rage alerts me to the fact that someone else has died in the struggle – but who? Silver sprints from the room, and I spare my district partner a glance before following.

**Dom's POV **

On the way down the stairs, we find Xander between the second and third floors with his head cricked at an odd angle. His unseeing eyes stare blankly at the roof and Romulus stands over him, his sword bloodied. For a moment, I think that Romulus might have killed him. Hell, this guy nearly raped Elethea, why would he refrain from murdering someone from his own district? Then I see that his mouth is pressed into a thin, tight line.

"What a waste," he mutters as Silver stops beside him, staring silently down at her district partner, "What a fucking waste."

"How did it happen?" Silver asks softly. I can see the sorrow in her eyes, though. Xander was an idiot, but he was still someone from her district, the last thing she had in this arena to remind her of home…and now he's gone.

"That bitch from District 6," Romulus snarls, his grip tightening on his sword. "Shoved him down the stairs. Can you believe that? He dies because he fell down a flight of stairs."

He gives a harsh bark of laughter, and I understand. Careers are meant to die noble yet brutal deaths, fighting other tributes and taking a few of them out too. Xander died because some girl managed to trip him over. I glance around. Romulus, Silver, Elethea…I realise instantly who's missing.

"Where's Melia?"

Romulus groans. "Shit."

The sound of screeching tyres outside makes us all start running again. We break out onto the street and Melia's there, pursuing the car as it makes it getaway.

"What are you doing?" Romulus bellows after her, "Melia, you can't catch them!"

"I'm getting that car!" she snarls over her shoulder, "I'll kill them. You'll see. I'll kill them all, and we can have the car."

Only then it stops dead still and I can't help but shiver. Something's wrong. Why have they stopped? If Districts 3 and 6 were so keen to make a getaway, they would have done so. My hands ball into fists.

"Run, Melia!" It's Elethea who yells out, and Melia spins to face us, looking confused. Then the car is shoved into reverse and squeals backwards, slamming into an unsuspecting Melia. She hits the road and rolls, groaning, and the doors to the car open. The four remaining techie alliance tributes file out.

"We should get inside." Romulus's voice is cool and calm, and Elethea throws him a disgusted look.

"What are you saying? That we should just leave her?"

I don't like Melia any more than Elethea, but I don't think leaving her is the morally correct thing to do. However, I don't like our chances when the techie alliance has their car. The girl from 3 is the first to confront Melia as the red-haired girl pushes herself to her feet, disorientated. However she reaches out with a snarl of fury, grabbing the girl's neck and twisting savagely to the side. The girl from District 3 falls to the ground and her cannon goes off…and then the others converge on Melia.

"Come on." Romulus grabs Elethea's arm and she yelps in panic, her eyes flaring with fear as she flinches away from him. My hand flies to my spear and Silver watches us all with a confused frown. She is the only one present who doesn't know what Romulus tried to do last night, while the rest of us were sleeping. A cannon goes off and we all whip around – but it's the girl from District 6 this time, the one who pushed Xander down the stairs.

"Seven," Silver mutters softly, and I know what she's talking about. Me, her, Elethea, Romulus, Melia and the boys from 3 and 6…seven tributes left. It's only Day 4. I realise now that these Games are probably going to be some of the shortest in existence.

Another cannon goes off and Silver bows her head as Melia hits the pavement, the blood from her torn throat as red as her hair. The two boys retreat and I stand there, stiff in the knowledge that we just stood and watched as they killed one of our own. Elethea's lip curls in contempt and I don't think she's nearly as bothered, but the fact that we didn't even attempt to help Melia proves everything. She was Romulus's district partner, and he was the first one to want to leave.

"What are they doing?" Elethea points at the car, the boys from 3 and 6. They're doing something to the tyres and I realise that they would rather sabotage the car so that no one can use it rather than let us get our hands on it. She takes a step backwards as the car lights up like a Christmas tree, and the boys from 3 and 6 scuttle out of sight.

"Time to make camp," Romulus says casually, like nothing's changed, like five tributes didn't just die within the past half an hour. I glance at Elethea and there's a grimness in her eyes. Four Careers, two other tributes left. We can't stay together much longer, any of us. I dread what's going to happen next, because these Games can't end well.

* * *

"No, please…please, stop!"

The cries rouse me from sleep and my hand is instantly rummaging around for my spear. It's Romulus, he's hurting Elethea, or trying to…but when I force my way through the panic that's taken a hold of me, I see that it's just my district partner twisting in her sleep, dark hair spiralling out in all directions like black tendrils. Silver's on watch, and she glances between Elethea and I quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

"Something happened."

"Yeah." I sit up, raking a hand through my hair. If there's someone apart from Elethea I could trust, it's always been Silver. Hell, what does it matter if I tell her? We're all going to die soon anyone. One of us might win, but the story of Elethea's fear will remain a ghost of the 69th Hunger Games, never to be repeated. "The other night, I heard her crying…like someone was hurting her. When I woke up…"

"Romulus." Silver's tone is ominously quiet, and she glances over at the sleeping boy from District 2 with something like disgust. It would be so easy to slit his throat now – but I remember a discussion Elethea and I had the night before the Games began.

_"What does it matter what's cowardly? Wouldn't you do anything to survive?"_

_ "No. I'd rather look someone in the eyes when I killed them."_

_"What if you knew they'd kill you if you were on even ground? Would you let them kill you just to keep your honour?"_

The question is far harder to answer now that we're in the arena. I don't know how Silver knew Romulus did something, but I think anyone can see he's the one who's hiding a monster inside them. I nod and lick my dry lips.

"I found him on top of Elethea. He…he was trying to rape her."

Silver nods slowly, twisting her axe in her hands. "Would you die for her?"

It's a hard question to answer. I examine the young, dark-haired girl who sleeps restlessly beside me. There's a bruise forming on her cheek where Romulus struck her when he had her pinned down. I want to protect her…but I can't, not forever. If she's dead, she will find some kind of eternal peace, I guess. She won't need my protection because she'll be in a place where there's no evil. I want to protect Elethea, but more than that, I want to go home.

"No."


	8. Watch Me Bleed

**Chapter Eight: Watch Me Bleed**

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**A/N: Okay, so this chapter was a bit hard to write. You'll see what I mean by the ending. Not sure if you saw it coming or not.**

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_"It will all be over, and here we are_

_We'll die inside this salted earth together_

_You'll pierce my lungs, your limbs go numb_

_As my colours fade out, you watch me bleed."_

_- Watch Me Bleed, Scary Kids Scaring Kids_

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

"Elethea." Someone shakes me awake, whispering my name. I flail, before realising that it's only Dom. "Elethea, come on, wake up. We have to go."

"Go where?" I ask, causing Dom to respond by pressing a finger to his lips and gesturing to Silver and Romulus, who are both still fast asleep. I understand him now – he means that we have to leave the others before it's too late. I nod and hastily gather my things in silence, glancing at Romulus every now and again. I want to kill him. I've never wanted anything more…but despite my convictions before the Games, I find that I just can't do it.

Dom helps me to my feet and we creep down the stairs. My eyes sweep the street as we move outside, and it feels like we're the last survivors of some kind of apocalypse. I haven't seen any sign of the boys from District 3 and 6. Dom catches my hand and leads me down the street and into one of the smaller buildings, an abandoned warehouse. I sigh in relief, my shoulders slumping as we set our things down. Being away from Romulus is definitely something to be grateful for.

I hum tunelessly as I sort through our supplies, dividing them into segments. There are so few of us now, so few that it makes it difficult for me to tell how much longer Dom and I can stay together. The prospect of being alone worries me more than I want to admit. Dom and I have been together this entire time, and I'm not keen on the idea of splitting up. Dom watches me carefully, almost worriedly, as I brush my dark hair out of my eyes.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." I offer him a fleeting smile. "It's just weird, being just the two of us now. We've just left the others, but…I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"Might only be one of you now." The voice startles us, and I jump to my feet. It's the boy from District 6, a sword in hand. Chills crawl up my spine. Did he follow us here, or has he been here the entire time? Either way, I don't like his ability to creep up on us so silently. This guy's big, nearly as big as Romulus. I know there's no time to waste.

I spin and hurl one of my knives as Dom hefts up his spear. The boy from District 6 manages to avoid my knife and slashes at me with his sword. I stumble back and reach for my other knife, but Dom has already stepped between us, blocking the blow with his spear. The edge of District 6's sword manages to cut open his arm.

"Dom!" I exclaim in shock.

The District 6 boy draws back and lunges again, the blade of his sword slicing along Dom's leg.

Dom hisses and stabs him in the chest and I take my chance. It's two against one, and I can't let Dom do all the work for me. I slash across the back of District 6's leg with my other knife, causing him to fall to his knees, groaning in pain. Dom drives his spear through the boy's neck, and District 6 chokes and falls limp, his cannon resonating throughout the warehouse. I wonder if it will wake Romulus and Silver up, if they'll ponder on who died.

"You okay?" Dom asks me, but I'm more concerned about the blood dripping from the cuts on his arm and leg. He's too busy worrying about my wellbeing to focus on himself. I realise how stupid I was to think his kindness an act before. He saved me from Romulus, he's continued to save me throughout these Games. How could I think he'd betray me?

"Fine." I wave a dismissive hand. "Where did he get you?"

"Arm and leg." Dom puts on a false bravado. "Just a scratch."

"Uh huh." I raise my eyebrows. Typical teenage guy, trying to be macho and pretend he's hardly hurt at all. I know the sword cut him deep enough so that his wounds would be more than scratches. "Show me this 'just a scratch'."

Dom sits down and tugs up his shirt to reveal the wound on his arm. It's deep, deeper than I'd thought. I'm going to have to try and stitch it, otherwise there's a very likely chance it'll get infected…if we even last that long. Shame I don't know too much about stitching. I shake my head in despair.

"Just a scratch. Right."

Dom chuckles, but the noise becomes a hiss when I tentatively poke at the wound. The one on his leg is just as bad. I don't even look up as the hovercraft bears down to collect the body of the boy from District 6, I'm too focused on Dom. I search through our supplies until I find a needle and thread, which have been in my pack since the bloodbath on the first day.

"I can stitch, but I don't have antiseptic."

"It's fine," Dom waves me off. He rolls up his pant and tugs his shirt off, and I flush and try not to look at the muscles of his chest. The wounds continue to weep blood, and I clean them with his shirt.

"Okay, tough guy." I start stitching the wound, knowing it'll probably hurt him. Dom clenches his jaw and grimaces as the needle goes through his skin. "It's alright. Don't tense."

Dom tries to relax and I finish up my messy stitching of his leg, shifting closer to stitch his arm. I'm aware of his gaze on me, and after all that's happened with Romulus, I can't help but feel uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. I sloppily finish stitching his arm, knowing it's the best that can really be done at the moment given the circumstances. I draw back once I'm done, cleaning the needle on his shirt.

"You okay now?" I inquire, my eyes searching him thoroughly. Normally he's the worried one, but now it's me. Dom's wounds aren't shallow. He smiles valiantly, as if that along can convince me.

"Yeah."

* * *

**Dom's POV**

By the time night falls, Elethea is shivering violently underneath the thick blanket we share. She curls close to me, teeth chattering. I slide my arms around her waist, pressing her tight against me. Despite the fact that she's cold, her skin temperature is almost unbearably hot. I know it can't be good. My mind whirls as I try to think about what it is that Elethea has.

"I'm so cold," Elethea murmurs. She looks up at the stars we can see through the gaps in the warehouse roof. I can see tears welling in her green eyes. "I'm going to die."

"No, you aren't," I insist fiercely. I don't know why I've taken up the role of her protector, but I'm not about to let her down now. I saved her from Romulus, and I'll save her from this if I can.

"But I'm cold," Elethea's tone is full of despair, "And I can't get warm."

"Hypothermia," I mutter. It's the only thing that makes sense. She's shivering profusely, but she doesn't feel cold when I hold her. It's a grim prospect, considering we don't exactly have all the medical supplies in the world with us.

"How do I fix it?" Elethea vents. She hugs herself tight, and I know that she's scared. I think we're all scared of death. I see it whenever I close my eyes. Xander's unseeing eyes staring up at the roof. Melia bleeding out on the concrete pavement. It's a looming black void, closer than ever now. "Okay. I think I got it. Skin contact. Sharing body heat."

"Okay." I have no problem in tugging my shirt off, but Elethea turns red as she takes her own top off. I can tell that she isn't comfortable taking her clothes off in front of me. I think it's probably got to do with Romulus. I pull her close and she clings to me like I'm her life support, causing me to smile. She's soft and warm.

"Sorry if this is awkward," she murmurs against my neck, "I'm kind of pressed up right against you."

"It's fine, El," I insist.

She looks up at me and then she's kissing me. I respond with enthusiasm, knowing it could be the last time I ever kiss her, or any girl. She rolls so she's lying on top of me and I run my hands up her bare back, but then I stop. I remember Romulus's hands up Elethea's shirt as she cried and struggled. I hesitate.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I just don't want this to go too far," I say quietly. I care about her, but to what extent? I'm almost certain that I love her, but love is what could destroy us. I don't want anything rushed to happen just because of the Games.

"We're just kissing," Elethea points out, nibbling anxiously at her lower lip. "What is it? Do you want more?"

"No," I reply, before I lean in and kiss her again. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Sometimes I think I'll never know exactly what I want. I pull her closer against me, her soft hands resting lightly on my chest. I run my hand through her dark hair and she gasps, pressing against me. I kiss her harder, with as much ferocity as I have, smirking a little as a soft moan escapes her.

"If I was your age, how far would you go?" Elethea inquires curiously, drawing back a little. Her full lips are red from my attentions. The question surprises me, in particular because I don't really know the answer.

"All the way, maybe."

"And because I'm not your age, you wouldn't want to go all the way?" Elethea questions. She's a curious little thing, this one. But I know that she isn't as wide-eyed and innocent, not since Romulus attempted to have his way with her. "Or you just don't like admitting you would because I'm fourteen?"

"No, because one of us isn't coming out of this arena," I say grimly. There's no point in starting something that can never last. I always find myself questioning what I feel for Elethea. I wouldn't die for her, but I'll protect her as best I can. Is that love really? If not, what exactly is it? Does it need a definition?

"It's going to be me," Elethea whispers. "I'm the smallest. I'm sick. If Romulus comes for me…"

"I'll gut him," I spit. What Romulus tried to do to Elethea was appalling, and it's still a sore spot with me. If he ever tries to touch her again, I'll lop off his hands, and have no hesitation in doing so.

"Dom." Elethea sighs heavily. "There are five of us left. You know what this means, don't you? When I'm better…or even before then…we're going to have to split."

"I know," I mutter, a grim silence descending over the pair of us. When the dawn breaks, things might change forever. I know that it won't be a good sort of change.

* * *

Elethea sleeps soundly, curled up under the blanket. The body heat's helped her, for she's not shivering anymore. She looks so young and innocent, in a ball on her side. I inspect her carefully, idly twirling of her knives in my hand and contemplating what I have to do. It'll be a mercy. There are five of us left, and it's better me giving her a quick end rather than leaving her to someone like Romulus. She yawns and rubs her eyes, sitting up and noticing the gleaming object in my hands.

"Hey, that's my knife."

"I know," I say quietly. She reaches out a hand, but I keep it out of her reach, shaking my head. "No."

Elethea frowns. "What do you mean, no?"

I yank her to her feet, fisting one hand in her dark hair to keep her in place and using the other to press the knife to her throat. Her green eyes widen in horror, and I start to think perhaps I have the mentality of a Career after all. Last night, we'd been kissing, and this morning, I'm going to kill her.

"What are you doing?!" she cries in shock, although it's blatantly obvious.

"One of us will have to kill the other eventually," I inform her, doing my best to keep my tone impassive.

Elethea's expression is one of terror. "You're going to kill me?"

I clench my jaw. This is no time for mercy. "Yes."

Elethea winces and screws her eyes shut, preparing for the end. I press the knife harder into her neck, causing blood to well under the blade. I can't do it, I just can't. I draw back. She watches me incredulously, not quite understanding what just happened.

"Dom?" she queries tentatively.

"I can't kill you." I feel like the words are some kind of self-betrayal. I hand her knife back to her. It seems wrong to kill my district partner. We both stand a chance at survival. If we part ways now, we'd be enemies when we next come across each other. Am I willing to risk letting her kill me? She takes her knife and watches suspiciously as I grab my pack.

"Where are you going?" she calls after me.

"I'm leaving." I turn back as I hear her sigh heavily. "We can't stay together, El."

"I knew we'd have to split sometime," Elethea murmurs, and my heart aches at the fact that it has to be now. It's better than having to face her in the final two, but I still wish that there was another way.

"I'm sorry," I state, because what else is there to say. The time for talking is almost over. The time for District 4 is now over, and we're just Dom and Elethea, two tributes struggling to survive. Elethea flings herself at me, wrapping her arms around me tight. I hug back, contenting myself just with holding her in the brief few moments we have left.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she murmurs.

I put on a brave face. "I'll be fine."

"What if Romulus finds you first?" Elethea asks, biting at her lip. I can see that she still fears the boy from District 2, the boy who pinned her down in the dark despite her sobbing and begging. He's possibly the most dangerous contender left in the Games.

"I'll kill him," I assure her.

She buries her face in my chest, and I find myself wishing the world could stand still for a while. I stroke her dark hair for several moments, before drawing back. I can't get too attached. Especially not considering if I see Elethea again, I'll have to kill her.

"Be careful," I warn her.

A wry smile crosses her lips. "I'm always careful."

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I sit in the darkness, hugging my jacket around myself. I know I'd be warm if I lit up a fire, but in a cityscape that's not entirely a good idea. All of the other survivors are Careers – with the exception of the boy from District 3, who I'm guessing isn't going to last much longer. How much longer will _I_ last? Without Dom, I'm a nothing, a nobody. I'm still eating, a little, but I'm definitely thinner than I was. I rake my dark, lank hair back and clamber to my feet, picking up my pack.

It's time to move. I can't risk staying in one place for so long. My stomach growls in protest and my heart aches with misery. I have a childish desire to be with Dom again, to hold him close. It's a girlish fantasy and I know it can't come true. We're destined to be enemies now, and either one or both of us will die. I heave a sigh.

"El?"

My first, panicked thought is of Romulus, creeping up on me in the dark, trying to hurt me once again. I scream and draw one of my knives on a whim, slashing aimlessly. Then, horrifyingly, too late, I recognise the voice. It's not Romulus at all. Dom staggers back into the moonlight, blood starting to well where I'd cut across his throat, chest, stomach…

"Dom?" I watch in growing horror as he presses his hands over the wounds. No, this isn't right. I'm not supposed to be his killer. What have I _done_? "Dom, how bad is it?"

He crumples to his knees, bleeding out quickly. I can see it there in the moonlight, dark sticky liquid staining his shirt, blossoming outwards like a disease. There had been shock in his eyes, but now I don't want to look. I don't want to see the accusation there, the hurt that I'm the one to destroy him. I realise now that no matter the circumstances, Dom wouldn't have killed me. He had his chance…and he didn't.

"No, no, no…" I kneel in front of him, desperation taking a hold of me. All I can do is watch him bleed out. I take his face in my hands. Anything, I'd give anything to take it back. I feel sick to the stomach. "Stay with me, Dom."

"I'm sorry, El," Dom manages hoarsely. I force myself to watch him fading away, to acknowledge with an ache that it's me who's done this. Dom, who's done nothing but care for me and protect me from the others…and I'm the one to turn on him, to become his murderer.

"Please," I beg, shaking my head vigorously. It's not right, it's not fair. There's a lump scratching in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. I'm dangerously close to falling apart. "Hang in there, Dom. I love you."

"I know," Dom rasps, coughing up blood. I see it stain his hand, see the panic in his blue eyes. I want to scream. Worse, I want to pick up my knife and drive it through my own heart. Not because he's dying, but because I'm the one who's committed this atrocity.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, unable to hold back the tears that trail freely down my cheeks. "Please. Just hold on."

He falls onto his back, moving limply before falling still. His blue eyes stare upwards at the stars he can't see, the stars that aren't even real. It's not fair. Why couldn't he have died looking up at something beautiful, at something real? Why had I been the one to kill him? His cannon goes off and it's the final confirmation of what I've done, and I can't hold my shock and anguish and self-hatred in anymore.

My scream of anguish rips through the arena. I put my arms around his immobile body, holding him tight and burying my face in his neck, crying hysterically. A part of me has died with Dom, and it's been replaced with something that twists harder than a knife, mercilessly, inside me. A painful shard to remind me of what I am: Elethea Ambrose, the monster from District 4.


	9. Distant Dark Places

**Chapter Nine: Distant Dark Places**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting, keep up the good work! I'm pretty busy with upcoming exams, but if I get some feedback, I might be inspired to hurry up and write some more ;) Reviews are love!**

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_"No, I don't love you, _

_But I always will."_

_- Poison and Wine, The Civil Wars_

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**Elethea's POV **

I fill up my bottle in the downtown fountain. It's probably not the cleanliest of places, but I no longer care. It should feel good to wet my parched lips, but since Dom's cannon had gone off, something seems to have snapped inside me. The things I feel aren't good. My heart cries out for more blood, but not his. It cries out for vengeance, and I know exactly who I want dead as I see him making his way to the fountain, alone, sword in hand.

"Hello, Elethea." Romulus smirks as he watches me put my bottle away. There's no Dom to protect me this time, so I have to fend for myself. I don't know if he plans to kill me outright or finish what he started, but by the bile rising in my throat, I won't want to know about it either way.

"Romulus." I smile coldly, watching as he twirls his sword boredly. "Restless? I guess you're not with Silver anymore. It's just you, me, her and District 3."

"Oh, believe me, I know," Romulus drawls.

"Do you?" I don't know a thing about self-preservation. Maybe he sees me as the falsely arrogant girl who'd come into the Games thinking she knew it all. It's unlikely that he sees the truth though, that Dom's death has made me so cold inside. "I wasn't aware you were smart enough to count that high."

"Soon, it'll be me, her and 3." Romulus lunges, slashing at my chest. The blade rips through my jacket and I stagger backwards, punching him with a small fist, hard enough to break his nose.

"I don't think so," I spit. Romulus hisses and slashes again, catching me across the leg. I stumble but force myself to ignore the throbbing pain. I cut his arm with my knife and he spins, kicking me in the chest. I cough and stumble, before I laugh manically. "Stupid boy. You're so far up yourself you can't even see the sun."

I lunge at him, teeth bared in savage rage as I stab him in the side. This boy tried to rape me. He would have hurt me in the worst possible way imaginable, if Dom hadn't stopped him. Romulus hisses and backhands me, but I manage to knock his feet out from underneath him. He retains a strong grip on his sword though, stabbing me in the ankle. I cry out and fall on him in a sudden, brutal fury. I pick up my knife and I can hear nothing but my blood roaring in my ears as I stab him between the legs, and he screams.

I laugh, the sound mirthless and unbalanced. Why am I laughing? Do I really gain pleasure from seeing him in pain? No, I don't think I do. I think I'm too deranged to know what I'm feeling anymore. He punches me in the stomach and I slam my head into his face, twisting my knife in his stomach. He coughs and spits out blood. I'm met with another fist to the face and I grimace and stab wildly, aimlessly…like I did with Dom.

Romulus's elbow connects with my face and I groan, rolling off him. He staggers to his feet, and I can see that he's changed. He's lost that cocky, arrogant attitude. I've managed to land some severe blows and we both know it. I lunge at him gain, stabbing at him. He yells and slams me into the side of the fountain, causing me to wince. I raise my knife and plunge it into the side of his neck, before ripping it free.

My tormenter coughs and crumples to his knees. I don't turn away from my dying victim. This time, I watch impassively as Romulus chokes on his own blood, writhing and wriggling on the stone, before his cannon goes off. I pick up my knives and clean them, wincing at the cuts to my leg. I pray for the end now. I don't care whether or not I go home anymore. I want to, for Leon and Mum…but I'm not the same Elethea they farewelled at the station.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I don't like the fact that Hyperion Dormer, Head Gamemaker of this year's Games, has come to pay me a visit. In fact, I just don't like Hyperion at all. He's about six feet tall and fairly slender, with dark hair and a stupid-looking goatee. There's a seemingly permanent smirk on his face. He can't be any older than his mid to late twenties. He seats himself gracefully, gesturing for the Avoxes to bring him wine. I'm tense, because I don't know what he wants.

"I'm sorry about the loss of your tribute," Hyperion drawls, swilling the wine in his glass before taking a sip. "The boy…what was his name, Dominic? Tragic…I understand it must be hard for you Victors, you do tend to get rather emotionally attached to your tributes."

"We do." I try and remain polite with Capitolians, try and stay on the good side – for my own sake, and the sake of my tributes. It was a shock to see Elethea kill Dom, but I also know it shocked her too. It was an accident, one that I know will haunt her for the rest of her life – if she survives the Games. Even if she does, I'm not sure I want to know what President Snow might have in store for her.

"I thought this year was going to be _fun_," Hyperion sighs, and my dislike of him hardens, as he sounds like a petulant child who's missed out on some kind of reward. "But we're not even a week into the Games and we have three tributes left. I'm guessing your bets lie with Elethea, yes?"

"Yes," I reply stiffly. I don't think I like where this conversation is going. Hyperion is leaning back in his chair and there's a smile across his lips as he examines me. "She's injured, though. She's…"

"Got that wound on her leg, I know." Hyperion takes another sip of his wine, eyes gleaming. "How long do you think she'll last with that, though? She's a tough little thing, though. I expected that boy from 2 to kill during that fight instead of the other way around."

Romulus. My hands clench into fists just at the thought of him. The memory of him wrestling with Elethea, pinning her down on the sleeping bag while he undid his pants…I don't think I'll be able to forget that. I could only sit in front of the screen, powerless to stop him. Then Dom…he did what I couldn't. He saved Elethea from that boy's depravity.

"I can give her medicine for that wound," Hyperion informs me, "For a price."

Everything's for a price with these Capitolians. I can't help but press my lips together in a contemptuous line, although I can't openly show my distaste. I raise my eyebrows and Hyperion puts down his empty wine glass, leaning forward. The sour smell of alcohol seems to radiate off him.

"If she wins the Games, I want to be the first to have her."

"Get out." I push myself to my feet, suddenly consumed by my anger. I'm starting to feel sick at Hyperion's words. What kind of bargain is that? He's trying to get me to agree to let him have sex with a _fourteen-year-old girl?_ She's a child! The Capitol's immorality has always startled me before, but this is a new level. "Get OUT!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Finnick." Hyperion gets to his feet. "I'm not planning on having her right now. I'd wait until she's a bit older. Any man can see that girl is going to be a beauty."

Beauty is a curse in the Capitol. I'd rather Elethea was horribly ugly, because that way Hyperion wouldn't want her, that way she wouldn't be sold into prostitution as I have been. I won't agree to it, no matter Hyperion's terms. It's not my place to sell off the virginity of a young girl. Maybe, in some ways, it's better that Elethea does die in the arena.

"I'll find someone else to give her medicine," I hiss, balling my hands into fists. "Someone who isn't asking for a little girl's virtue."

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I sit down heavily and examine my wounds. The one in my leg is deep, making me hiss in pain when I prod at it. I remember stitching up Dom's leg only days ago. I swallow the hard lump in my throat. Just thinking about Dom hurts – but I deserve it. After all, I killed him. Not Romulus, not Silver. Me. There are only three of us left in the arena and the end would soon come – perhaps my end. But all I can think of is poor, sweet Dom.

I push myself to my feet, biting back a cry at the pain that singes through my injured leg. A beeping nearby makes me aware of a silver parachute that's settled on the ground near me. I blink and glance around. A sponsor gift! Is it really meant for me…or is one of the other tributes nearby? Cautiously, I approach and detach the small metal container from the parachute. There's a note on the top.

_Use sparingly. – F _

Two words. Two little words that don't indicate at all how my mentor feels now that I've become a monster. I know that he must be disgusted at me for turning on Dom, but likely wants me to stay focused and so doesn't say it. I sit down gingerly and stretch my wounded leg out in front of me with a wince. I unscrew the cap and wrinkle my nose at the strong-smelling medicine. I swirl two fingers in the green ooze, before wiping it on the wound on my leg.

I bite my lip hard to suppress a cry of pain that could betray my location. The medicine stings as I apply it, first generously to the leg wound and then sparingly onto my other small cuts and injuries. Once I'm done, I screw the lid back on the metal container and rip the sleeve off my jacket, tying it tightly around the cut on my leg. I suppose it's going to have to do for now.

Winning seems so close, yet so far away. Can I do it? I've fought and killed Romulus, who's over a foot taller than me. It's not because I'm talented. It's not because I'm invincible. It was out of sheer luck, out of the boiling hot rage that seemed to give me strength. I know I can do it. I can win the 69th Hunger Games. Only, what will the cost be?

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I dress quickly and my fuchsia-haired companion does the same. I had to thank her for the medicine I was able to get to Elethea. She's not too bad as Capitolians go, I suppose. Hasn't undergone too much surgery, although she does appear somewhat youthful for a woman in her late thirties. She ties back her fuchsia hair and spares me a glance over her shoulder.

"I hope you don't think I'm rude for saying you have to be out before ten. I have to get to work."

"Not at all." I offer her a charming smile as I tug my clothes on. Lucilla, that's the woman's name, Lucilla Asterbury. It's always horrible when you forget, because they're insulted, as if you're really their lover instead of just someone they bought. I'm very glad to be kicked out early. No matter who I sleep with, I know it's always done for money or sponsor gifts, and it leaves a sick feeling in my gut.

"Mum, you have to…" The girl stops in the doorway, freezing as she glances between Lucilla and I. We're both dressed, but the girl is about fifteen or so, likely has an idea of what's going on. I wasn't aware that Lucilla had a daughter. She's fairly plain, with none of the typical Capitol colour. It makes me a bit sick to realise I'm closer to the daughter's age than the mother's.

"Storm!" Lucilla chides, her eyes flaring with anger. "How many times must I tell you to knock? Go and get yourself some breakfast, now."

Storm spares me a shocked glance, before she hurriedly exits the room. Lucilla offers me an apologetic smile, but all I can see is Storm's accusatory gaze, still burning into me after she's left. Why am I destined to be the bad guy?

"Thank you for Elethea's medicine," I say hoarsely, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Any time." Lucilla kisses my cheek in a familiar fashion. "Remember, there's no need to be a stranger, Finnick. If you need help, you can always ask for it."

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I trail through the arena wearily, wondering if I've lost hope altogether. I'm trudging, my feet dragging behind me. I'm filthy and so very tired. I'm grateful though, if only for the medicine that might save my leg from being amputated…well, if I survive. There's barely any food in my pack, and it just feels wrong taking from Dom's although I've lugged it everywhere with me like a souvenir. Dom's ghost follows me though, and nabbing the food that was once his just feels…wrong.

I turn and corner and freeze. Because there, standing only a few metres away trying to break into one of the cars, is Silver. She must feel my gaze, because she spins around, hand going to her axe. I don't feel trepidation. I don't feel anything. I could kill Silver right here and now and I doubt the emotional side of me would even catch on. Her lips press into a thin line as she walks over to me, slowly, carefully.

"So. Romulus is gone." I state casually. "Just you, me and District 3. You were nice to me, the only one apart from Dom."

Maybe I hadn't wanted to live before, but now I do – but not for me. For Dom's sake. I killed him and I can't let that be for nothing. Silver's eyes burn with determination and I know I'm not the only one hungry for victory. Only, is my reason stronger than Silver's? I draw my knives and she lunges, slashing at me with the axe. I whirl and duck as it whistles over my head. Silver knocks my feet out from underneath me, but I catch her ankle and yank hard, bringing her crashing down as well.

It's going to be a shame to have to kill her. I don't want to draw it out like I did with Romulus. Silver at least deserves the honour of a quick death. I slash her leg, but Silver just kicks me in the ribs, making me curl up automatically. I spring to my feet and wing one of my knives at Silver. The girl from District 1 is fast as lightning, and as deadly too. She whirls out of the way and I wheel around, slashing her back. I shove her to the ground, but she pulls me down with her.

I slam my fist into Silver's face, but the blonde girl punches right back. I desperately grapple for my other knife, swinging it forth and stabbing Silver in the neck. The blonde girl coughs, choking, and for the first time I feel something other than anger or hatred. I feel sympathy. I withdraw my knife and stab her in the heart and Silver stills suddenly, awfully, her cannon resonating throughout the arena.

I get to my feet and glance wildly around, sheathing my knives. It's just me and District 3 now, and that cannon would have alerted him to the fact that another tribute had just died, and he had made the final two. I pick up my pack and swallow hard. The arena feels so very empty now. There are just two of us left…but can I win the final fight?


	10. Victorious

**Chapter Ten: Victorious**

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**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, lovelies! I really do appreciate it! Because you've all been so great, I've been getting to work on this, and here's the next chapter. It's the end of Elethea's Games, but definitely not the end of her story yet ;) Remember, reviews are love, and motivate me into writing!**

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_"My wounds cry for the grave,_

_My soul cries for deliverance_

_Will I be denied, Christ, tourniquet_

_My suicide?"_

_- Tourniquet, Evanescence_

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I'm hunting down the boy from District 3 – my final adversary. All I wanted to do was end this once and for all, cut loose the tension that's coiled inside me as tightly as the knots I used to tie with Dom during training. I find him at dawn, fiddling with something around the fountain. The water reflects off his face and hair, shimmering and swaying. I catch my breath and watch him from a crevice between buildings, for once grateful for my small size.

I steel myself and twirl one of my knives in my hand, watching it glitter in the sunlight. I watch District 3 carefully. I don't even know his name. But I have to do this, because I swore a silent oath to Dom's corpse that I would win. District 4 will have its Victor – it just isn't the one that everyone expected. I take a deep breath and step out of the shadows.

"District 3."

The boy spins around. He isn't surprised to see me, but then again, he shouldn't be. I'm the only other tribute left in the arena after all. He inclines his head almost formally.

"4."

"So." I stare down at my knife, watching how the light of the sun bounces off it. "Just you and me. Scared?"

"No." District 3 shakes his head, but I know he's lying. I can see the trepidation building in his eyes as I close in on him. He's done something to rig the fountain, judging by the way he seemed to be fixing something up before.

"Liar," I retaliate, before winging my knife at him. I'm impatient. I don't want to drag this out any longer than necessary. The District 3 boy hurls himself out of the way and I run at him, tackling him to the pavement. It hurts and the world spins like a merry-go-round. He isn't too much bigger than me, but he manages to throw me off and grab a fistful of my hair, dragging me towards the water. I yelp and struggle.

I manage to shove him away, backing away from him. I can't go near that water in the fountain, no way. It glimmers invitingly, like the sea at high tide when the waves crash over the rocks…but District 3 knows I like water. He grabs my arms but I slam my foot into his shin, causing him to hurl me to the ground. My head smacks onto the stone and everything spins in and out of focus. I whirl my legs around, knocking the boy's feet from underneath him. I reach for my knife, but he hauls me up first.

He starts dragging me slowly but surely towards the fountain. I flail, kicking and panicking. He lands a punch to my gut but I spit in his face and he flinches and staggers back. I lunge with my knife but he hits me across the face, his fist catching my mouth. There's a metallic taste in my mouth and I grimace, spitting out blood. He kick me in the ribs hard enough to make me stumble, the wind knocked out of me, but despite being out of breath I kick back, sending him into the water.

He lights up like a Christmas tree, the electricity pulsing through him as he screams and flails. It's a horrible sight, so horrible that I want to be sick, or turn away, but I can't. This is the finale. This is my victory, bitter as it tastes in my mouth. The boy finally, after what seems like forever, stops twitching and stills. His cannon resonates throughout the arena, empty apart from me. I'm so alone. It doesn't _feel_ like victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The voice booms out across Panem and I wince. The pain sparks in my ribs and I crumple to my knees. "The winner of the 69th Hunger Games – Elethea Ambrose!"

I curl myself into a ball and cry.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

Elethea is escorted into the waiting room, where I sit anxiously in my chair, clutching the arms so tightly that my knuckles have gone white. The dark-haired girl who enters is hardly the argumentative, overconfident child who went into the arena. There's dried blood all over Elethea's face, days old by now. Her hair's messy and there's a glazed look about her eyes. I stand up and walk over as she plays with her hands uncomfortably.

She's the first Victor from 4 since me. She is the same age as I was when I won, but even now she seems so painfully young that it hurts like a knife to see how much one person can change...and for Elethea, it's only the beginning. She looks up at me, and her eyes are like knives cutting into my soul. The misery there is something I can't avoid.

"Dom," she whispers, and I reach out to gently wipe the blood from her face. She's very pale underneath it all, and she's definitely lost some weight since entering the arena. Elethea seems more tiny than ever.

"I know," I reply softly. That's all I can say, the only words that come out of my mouth. I don't know how to make this young girl feel better. Even at eighteen, I still don't know how to comfort a child. I would be the worst father or brother ever. She bites her lip, and I wonder if she's going to cry.

"He would hate me."

"No, he wouldn't," I insist. Elethea didn't kill Dom out of spite, or even the necessity to survive. She had killed him because she had wrongly assumed him to be Romulus come to get her. She had been scared and it had been a mistake, a horrible mistake.

"I murdered him," Elethea informs me, tears welling in her green eyes. In some ways, I wish the boy from District 3 had killed her. Wouldn't it be better, for this young girl to meet a quick end rather than having to endure the torment I know is yet to come?

"It was an accident," I assure him, putting my hands on his shoulders. She is so little. It seems strange that someone so young and small can have won the Games. I was the same age, but I sure wasn't barely over five feet tall.

"And Romulus..." Elethea swallows hard. "I mutilated him..."

I nod slowly. "He deserved it."

She shakes her head fervently. "No one deserved that."

I sigh heavily. It seems like Elethea sees herself as a monster, and there's nothing I can do to convince her otherwise. I know that the journey is going to be long and hard. I'm eighteen and it still hurts. I don't know when it's going to stop. Maybe it never does. Elethea buries her face in her hands and I put my arms around her, hugging her close. Whatever the case, we Victors have to look after each other. We're in this together.

"He should have lived," Elethea murmurs, "Not me. He was stronger."

"So was Romulus," I remind her. While Dom was stabbed in the dark, Elethea had beaten Romulus in a fair fight in broad daylight.

"You think I don't know that?" Elethea rubs her arms and shifts uncomfortably. I can tell that she is still traumatised by what Romulus tried to do to her. "I should have died."

"I'm glad you didn't," I admit. Maybe it's just good to know I have another Victor to feel my pain, selfish as that is. Elethea's only four years younger than me. Perhaps we'll become friends over time. I'd like a friend.

"When does it stop hurting?" Elethea asks.

I'd give anything not to answer the question. She's just a child. A child who has, by chance, won the 69th Hunger Games. How are you supposed to tell a child that they will never wake up from the nightmare, that it's going to take over their whole reality?

"It doesn't."

Elethea bites her lip hard, tears running down her cheeks. I kiss the top of her head and hold her close as she sobs. I understand what it must be like to realise things are never going to go back to how they used to be. I still fear for her. She's a pretty little girl, and she's almost certainly going to grow up to be a beauty. I don't want Snow to have Elethea used as I am used.

"Why did he look after me?" Elethea asks, looking up at me through teary eyes as though I have all the answers.

"Because he cared about you," I remark. It had been obvious to everyone, everywhere. Even the other Careers had surely noticed it. When I heard Elethea's scream of distress at Dom's death, I understood that she really did love him, in some way. I shake the matter away, because it doesn't seem fair for a fourteen-year-old to have her heart broken that way.

"He shouldn't have." Elethea shakes her head vigorously. "I'm not worth it. He should have focused on keeping himself alive."

"I care about you," I state. It's true in a way. Sure, she was an annoying brat before, but I've come to see this girl as almost like my baby sister, someone I need to protect. I understand why Dom wanted to protect her, although the sixteen-year-old's feelings for Elethea had been romantic rather than brotherly.

"Yeah, but you're my mentor," Elethea points out, as if that means I care by default, because I have to.

"There's no difference," I insist. The need to protect her is the similarity between Dom and I, although the feelings causing the protective instincts are different.

"They all thought I was the baby. But in the end I was the worst monster of all." She clings to me tightly, and her mind seems to turn back to her family. "Leon...what's he going to think of me?"

"I'm sure he'll just be happy to have you home," I reply, although doubt tugs inside me at the mention of Elethea's brother.

"I don't know if I can do it," Elethea murmurs. I can tell that going home frightens her, as it frightened me. To return as if nothing has happened is a scary prospect. She shivers against me.

"You can," I say firmly, gripping her shoulders and looking into those tearful dark green eyes. "I know you can."

"But I'm so alone," Elethea whispers, and I feel pity for her. She's not alone, even though I know what it's like to feel that way.

"You have me," I remind her, a slight smile crossing my lips.

She shakes her head. "You're busy."

"I have time," I assure her. It should be...interesting, to have another teenage Victor around the place, following me around like a lost puppy. But he supposed Mags had had to deal with him, so he could deal with Elethea.

"What do you do?" Elethea inquires curiously. "To stop the pain?"

"I try and take my mind off it." I zone out momentarily, my mind flicking back to my own Games, before I smile back down at her. "Make myself busy."

"How?" She persists almost desperately. I can already see her searching for an escape, a way out of the miserable life she's been forced into. Surely even she's thinking that death would have been preferable.

"Depends on where I am and who I'm with." I brush her dark hair out of her face. "Sometimes I swim."

She nods silently and I hug her, holding her close despite the fact that she remains still in my arms. She buries her face in my chest and I rhythmically stroke her hair, hoping that she can find some sort of comfort.

"When do you stop becoming numb?" she inquires, just when I thought there'd come an end to her questions.

"It takes a few weeks," I reply quietly.

She stares at her feet. "I just wish it would all go away."

"We all do," I say grimly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

_"You killed me." Dom circles me with a spear clutched in his hand, his blue eyes burning with hatred. I watch him with only my small throwing knives in my grasp. "I saved you so many times…and that's how you repay me?"_

_He spins the spear and his face becomes Romulus's, hard and full of malicious glee. I take a few staggering steps back, but he advances on me quickly, shoving me to the ground and holding the spear up over me._

_"You don't deserve a quick death."_

_There is no time to beg, to plead for mercy. Romulus drives the spear through my stomach and twists and I'm screaming and screaming as blood pumps out of me and floods the arena, staining it red…_

I wake up tangled in the sheets, crying out in panic. I run my hands frantically over my stomach, searching for any sign that I've been stabbed. After a few moments I sink back against the pillows in relief. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. I curl onto my side and start sobbing.

I look up as my door open, feeling remorse as I've likely woken Finnick. But it's not Finnick in the doorway. It's a little old woman who's barely bigger than me. She must be Mags, the other mentor who accompanied us to the Capitol. I've seen glances of her. She's in her seventies at least. But she is frail, and it makes sense that Finnick has been the one seeing us, although I wonder if Mags is the one behind his advice.

The old woman walks over and sits beside me on the bed. I wonder what she's going to say, but instead she just starts to softly stroke my dark hair back. Although the gesture surprises me, I close my eyes and after some time, Mags's gentleness lulls me into a dreamless sleep where I am safe.


	11. The Road Gets Tough

**Chapter Eleven: The Road Gets Tough**

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**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! They really motivate me. Alright so exam time's coming up soon and I shouldn't be writing too much...but here's another chapter for now, and I might be able to squeeze in another update soon possibly...reviews are love!**

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_"You won't cry for my absence I know_

_You forgot me long ago_

_Am I that unimportant?_

_Am I so insignificant?"_

_- Missing, Evanescence_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

The next day is the Victory Banquet, but I don't feel like eating. I guess this is just as well, because Finnick ushers me around to have my photo taken with this person, be congratulated by that person. Why is there a need for congratulations? Why should I be applauded for murdering innocent tributes just so I could live? Even now, so soon after my victory, life seems to be worth less than before. I continue to play the frightened child I'd been in the arena, overwhelmed by everything around me. I clutch at Finnick's arm as he introduces me to several Capitolians.

"You're a sweet little thing, aren't you?" It's a man in his late twenties, watching me with an almost smug smile across his lips. I recognise him vaguely, and I'm not surprised when Finnick introduces him as Head Gamemaker Hyperion Dormer. Something's wrong, though. Finnick's posture has stiffened and although he's still being polite, his sea-green eyes are completely cold.

"I don't know if I could really be called sweet," I reply, causing Hyperion to throw back his head and laugh as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Finnick excuses us and leads us over towards the Victors. I'm feeling a little more pleased about seeing some of my own kind, but the only word that comes to mind when I see them is: broken.

"Finnick." A man in his thirties with slurred speech, no doubt due to drinking, approaches us. "Mags didn't come with you?"

"It's a bit of a trip back to 4," Finnick replies with a slight smile, and his sudden relaxed manner assures me that he and this drunk man are in fact friends. "She's resting. Elethea, this is Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Hunger Games from District 12."

Haymitch waves a hand dismissively. Despite the man's drunkenness and belligerent attitude, I find myself somewhat fascinated by his bluntness. I glance around as they talk, feeling a little out of place.

"You're even smaller than you looked on television." I whirl around to see I'm being addressed by a boy of maybe seventeen. He's handsome, with golden blonde hair and blue eyes, and he's tall, probably Finnick's height. My first, childish thought is that he looks like an angel. I recognise him vaguely.

"Are you a Victor?" I inquire, feeling a bit stupid.

He inclines his head. "Gloss from District 1. I won the Hunger Games last year, don't you remember?"

I do now, vaguely. Gloss was, of course, a crowd favourite. His district partner, Honey, met a grisly end that sent Gloss on a vengeful rampage. I remember the details now all too clearly, and I feel a bit sick.

"Is this her?" A young woman with long blonde hair follows Gloss over. I take in her appearance and realise this must be Gloss's sister, Cashmere. From memory, she's about two years older than her brother, and won the 67th Hunger Games. "Elethea, hello. I'm Cashmere, Gloss's sister."

Cashmere is charming enough, but Gloss watches me with cold, unforgiving eyes. It makes me uncomfortable to see such blatant dislike in his gaze, which contrasts with the way that every now and again, his eyes would lazily rake over me. I ignore the negative vibe I get from Gloss, instead choosing to talk to Cashmere, who seems nice if a little self-absorbed.

"Elethea." Finnick walks over with a trademark winning smile plastered across his face, but when he notices Gloss, both boys seem to stiffen imperceptibly. I immediately realise that they are not friends by any means. "I see you've met the Victors from District 1."

I nod and try and cover up a yawn, which I'm grateful to Finnick for pouncing on.

"Looks like she's getting tired. You'll have to excuse us."

I allow Finnick to take my arm and lead me out, pleased to be away from the massive throng of people. Would it have been different if it was Dom who had won? Would they speak to him less like he was a child and more like he was an adult?

"Watch out for him," Finnick says grimly, "Cashmere's alright, but Gloss is a nasty piece of work."

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

Elethea is observing platters of food on the cart as I watch her, sipping a colourful drink and ruminating that it's almost exactly like when we had been going _to_ the Capitol – only this time, there's a distinct hole where Dom should be. My heart grows heavy as I remember his fate, a fate that Elethea was responsible for, much as she hadn't meant to be. It's something she will have to live with for the rest of her life.

"You have to mentor next year," I inform her as she sits down in silence, playing with her hands. It must hurt to know that – it had certainly hurt me, knowing I'd have to watch more tributes live and fight and die. I wish I could have told her that winning wasn't everything, that sometimes losing was easier.

"What do you mean?" Elethea asks, her head snapping up and her green eyes widening as she inspects me critically.

"What I did this year, you have to do next year," I inform her heavily. She's young, but she'll have help, just like I did. It's almost physically painful to tell her that it's not over, that the Capitol hasn't had enough of tormenting her yet.

"What?" There's accusation written across her face, which I find unfair. I don't make the rules. If I did, I would try to spare her the same pain that I'm forced to bear. "Why?"

"It's a requirement." I watch as she bites down on her lip. "I know, it's not fun. But it's what's expected of every Victor, no matter how young they might be. I was the same age as you when I won, remember?"

"I can't," Elethea whispers, staring at her hands. It seems like she doesn't really know how she won. Sometimes, it's more luck than anything else, and it's not really something you can teach your tributes. "I don't know how."

"You just give them hints, El," I say patiently, keeping my tone level. "Help them learn things."

"Like what?" Her voice grows bitter and her eyes shine with misery. "How to kill their district partner? I didn't know it kept going. Do I do this alone?"

"No," I admit. I had always been grateful for the help I'd received in mentoring. Having Mags around makes the load easier to bear, but Mags is getting too old for all of this now. There are younger women who have won since, but many of them can't stomach travelling to the Capitol, not if they can convince Mags to do it for them. "I'll help you."

"You're so young," Elethea states bluntly, but I know it's the truth. Slowly, she's starting to understand my pain, the pain I try so hard to disguise. I watch as she walks over and touches my face tentatively, as though frightened I'm a ghost. I watch her, wide-eyed and now broken. "Does it scare you?"

I know she means physical contact with her. "No."

"You're brave," Elethea informs me, in all her fourteen-year-old wisdom. She's scared, will probably be scared for years to come. She bites her lip. "Did he love me?"

"Yes," I say heavily. It wasn't obvious at first, but the extent Dom had gone to in the Games had proved that he cared deeply about Elethea. It doesn't matter now, though. I know from experience that everyone you love dies, until all that's left are ashes of the past. With the Capitol, you can never truly win.

"Do you love anyone?" Elethea persists, all childish ignorance. She can't see that I just want to stop talking and forget. Her eyes are curious as I shake my head. I haven't known love for what seems like a very long time. "You don't like talking, do you?"

"I'm just tired," I confess, raking a hand through my hair. I'd had to deal with the Games and now a Victor. Elethea is a sweet girl, but half of the time she's annoying as hell, and the other half she's scared of her own shadow. I guess it can't be helped.

"Of me?" Elethea asks, her voice suddenly very small, her face crumpling slightly. _Please, don't let her cry._ I think I've handled about all the tears I can for now.

"In general. I just want to be home." I fall silent and glance out of the window for a few moments. My time away makes me miss District 4, miss the ocean and sand and the waves. I just want to stay home in the Victor's Village – but even that's not home to me, not really. So where is home? I feel lost.

Elethea bites down on her lip. "I just want to be me."

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I step off the train with clammy palms. Mum and Leon are already waiting on the platform for me. I should be excited to see them, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach is dread. I force a smile as Leon runs over and throws his arms around my waist. Mum follows with a more reserved expression. I realise, with growing apprehension, that Mum and Leon have witnessed everything. Romulus trying to rape me, me killing Dom...Mum has seen the monster and perhaps understood, even if Leon didn't.

"You're home!" Leon exclaims. I look down on my innocent eleven-year-old brother and I know that he'll see me as a hero. He will look up to and respect me. I don't deserve that sort of idolisation.

"I am. I won."

"I want to be like you one day!" Leon says enthusiastically, with a cheeky grin, as Mum holds me close in her arms and kisses my cheek. "I want to win the Games!"

"No, Leon," I reply flatly. If there's one thing I will work relentlessly towards, it's to ensure that my baby brother doesn't have to go through the same thing I did. "You don't."

"Sweetheart, we saw what happened with Dom," Mum states, causing Leon to go quiet. I feel a squirm of guilt at being like this towards my little brother, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to force another smile and tell lies. That's all the Victors do, and that Capitol. They make out winning is something worth celebration.

"Does the entire district hate me now?" I ask quietly.

"Nope," Leon replies with a shrug.

"It's alright." Mum watches with me with sorrow in her eyes. She can tell that I'm not the same, that I'll never be the same girl who left with high hopes and a complete ignorance to what might happen. I'm shattered beyond repair. Leon grabs my hand in his small, warm one. The action causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. He pulls me along and Mum follows us.

"Where are we going?" I inquire, glancing around.

"Home." Leon grins and I bit my lip. He means our new house in the Victor's Village, no doubt. Mum looks as though she can see how uncomfortable I am with being home, with moving around so suddenly. Everything seems to make me shrink back in on myself.

"Leon, be nice to your sister."

"I am," Leon replies indignantly. "I want to go home."

"I know, sweetheart." Mum sounds tired, so tired. I'm suddenly aware of how many sleepless nights she's probably experienced, and I feel guilty. Everything that's happened to me is my own fault. After all, I volunteered.

"I have to mentor tributes next year," I whisper. District 4 hasn't changed since I left, but to me, it's so very different. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep in the big bed that's no doubt been made up for me in the house in the Victor's Village.

"That'd be fun," Leon comments enthusiastically.

"Having to watch people die isn't fun, Leon," I snap. I immediately feel bad when my little brother falls into an upset silence. "I'm sorry. How much of the Games did you watch?"

He shrugs. "Most of it."

"Like the bits with Dom?" I persist, not wanting my baby brother to have been subject to the horrors I'd been through. "And Romulus?"

"I saw you kill Romulus," Leon informs me, but by the excitement glittering in his eyes, it's all still a game to him. It's something he's seen on television and it hasn't exactly hit home. Maybe for Mum it's more real, but Leon's still just a child.

"That was bad," I whisper, remembering the brutal way in which I killed the boy from District 2.

"That was cool," Leon argues, causing me to sigh heavily. I might be home, among family and friends who love me, but it feels like we're worlds apart. Finnick is the only one who understands. I will never be the same Elethea Ambrose who left District 4 with a child's ambitions.


	12. Tour de Panem

**Chapter Twelve: Tour de Panem**

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone reviewing, favouriting and following! It's always appreciated. Now, I'm heading into 70th Hunger Games territory, which as you all know, is Annie's Games. This and next chapter will focus on Elethea's Victory tour, but after that, I'm heading into the 70th Hunger Games and the next part of this story. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_"Look here she comes now_

_Bow down and stare in wonder_

_Oh, how we love you_

_No flaws when you're pretending."_

_- Everybody's Fool, Evanescence_

* * *

"Elethea. Elethea, wake up!"

I groan softly as my brother's voice rouses me from sleep. Light filters in through the heavy curtains and I toss over in my bed. Despite the fact that our family has lived in this beautiful house in the Victor's Village for close to a year, some things still take getting used to – the bed included. It feels like sinking into a marshmallow every time I lie down. I'm actually lucky that I managed to get any sleep last night – memories of Dom and the Games still haunt me.

"What?" I push myself up to see Leon standing over my bed. He's undergone a growth spurt and at twelve years old, is nearly as tall as me. Not that it's hard to be – I've grown a disappointing inch since last year, and I've condemned myself to being forever short. Leon bounces on the balls of his feet enthusiastically.

"Finnick is here to see you!"

Of course, that explains why Leon is so excited. Although at least half of District 4 has alienated me because of what happened to Dom, Finnick is a constant. He's probably one of my closest friends, and the rest of my family love him. Mum wants him over for dinner every other night – taking pity on him for his lack of family, I guess. I've never asked, but I don't think Finnick's parents are still around. Leon just adores him, seeing him as a male role model.

Sometimes, I wonder why Finnick still bothers with me. After all, he's nineteen now, and I won't be fifteen for another month yet. I've come to accept that we're both broken though. Maybe that's why, because despite the age difference, Finnick can trust me with anything. He knows that I understand him. Of course, it doesn't help that he's drop-dead gorgeous and my hormones are all over the place.

I scramble out of bed and shoo Leon out of my room, tugging on some clothes and making sure I look at least half decent before I go downstairs to see Finnick. He's always so immaculate, and I always feel like a bumbling idiot around him. I'm still growing into my body, whereas Finnick is by now pretty much full-grown. He makes me feel things that I'm determined not to. I lost Dom, the person I cared about. I can't bring myself to feel for anyone who isn't my family.

"Elethea." Finnick is sitting down at the table sipping a cup of tea Mum no doubt pressed upon him. Fortunately, she still sees my relationship with him as that of a protective older brother towards his younger sister. Of course, that's probably how Finnick sees things as well. I smile and sit across from him.

"Why are you here, Fin? Come to bother us again?"

Finnick and I have a light, teasing banter in front of Mum and Leon. It makes her happy, because she feels like Finnick is helping me get over the nightmares of my Games. Maybe she's right. I'm not sure yet, but we only have deep and meaningful conversations when we're alone together. He sips his coffee and offers Mum one of his typical dazzling smiles that never fails to charm.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go for a walk along the beach. It's a beautiful morning."

We've known each other long enough by now that I know that a walk on the beach is code for some serious conversation. Unfortunately, Leon pounces on the suggestion eagerly, glancing between us.

"A walk! Can I come too?"

"No, Leon." Mum's voice is firm. She at least understands that I need time with one of the few people in District 4 that actually gets me. "You have to stay here."

I offer Mum a grateful smile and push myself to my feet. Finnick showers her in gratitude for the coffee, and she reminds him that he's welcome to come around anytime. We walk outside and I peer up at the cloudless blue sky. Finnick was right; it's a beautiful day. The sun beats down on my back and warms my skin as we head down to the beach.

"Your mum's very young," Finnick states suddenly, raking a hand through his bronze hair. "How old is she?"

"She's thirty-four," I reply, wondering exactly why Finnick has brought up this topic of conversation. "She was your age when she had me. Why? Have you got some kind of thing for my mum?"

Finnick pulls a face. "Hell no. I mean, your mum's a nice lady, but...she's a lot older than me. I was just curious...I mean, your dad died just after Leon was born, didn't he? She would have been young to raise two children by herself."

I sit down on and wriggle my toes in the sand, wondering what happened to Finnick's parents. I assume they're dead, but I never ask. It's nice to sit out here, watching the waves crashing down on the unforgiving rocks, pretending like the Hunger Games never happened. But it would be foolish to forget. After a moment, I become aware that Finnick's still watching me, and I turn red, prepared to blame the morning sun in my defence.

"You know that your Victory Tour is only next week," Finnick states.

I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. I thought the monster could stay in her cage, but it seems like I have to go and show the monster off to the districts. I'll remind 1 and 2 that I killed Silver and Romulus. They're all going to hate me, just like half of my own district. Over the past year or so, the intense dislike dissipated in favour of sympathy for my predicament, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I don't want anyone's pity.

"You're going to be with me, right?" I ask, instantly assured by his nod. He'll be there telling me what to do every step of the way – and I'll do the same for the next unfortunate kid from District 4 who wins the Hunger Games. I pick up a handful of sand and watch the grains pour through my fingers, spilling back onto the beach. "They're going to hate me. The ones from 1 and 2."

Finnick shrugs. "They hate everyone from District 4. Cashmere's alright, though. I'm sure you'll get along with her."

I hope so. I selfishly want to make friends with other Victors, even if I know I don't deserve to. I glance at Finnick, who is watching the ocean with an impassive expression. Is he thinking back to my Games, or his own? I want to reach out for his hand, but that seems too personal. He would either think me a child looking for someone to cling to, or a hopelessly romantic girl panting after him like everyone else in Panem. Instead I dig my elbow into his ribs.

"Come on. Let's go for a swim."

* * *

The Victory Tour takes too long and tires me out. I think that so far, 2 has been the worst. I don't like to admit it, but Enobaria frightens me. Maybe it's those gold teeth, flashing in an ominous smile. Or perhaps it's remembering how she used her teeth to rip out another tribute's throat during her Games. I suppress a shiver just thinking about her, and how mocking she was towards me.

A child. That's all I am, to any of them. Even in the lower districts, none of them treated me like I was worthy of respect. Instead, I'm just a kid to be patted on the head and congratulated. I wonder if Finnick received the same kind of treatment when he won his Games. But I guess, he probably wasn't 5'2.

We seem to rush through it all – parties and Victors and drinks that burn down my throat and make me cough. I'm not meant to drink alcohol really, but they must think it's funny to serve a young girl and watch her stumble about the place. I'm not the person drinking the most – in District 12, Haymitch Abernathy vomits spectacularly all over a roast turkey we were meant to be having for dinner.

"Finnick?" I whisper, late on our last night in District 2. Here we're sharing a room, something that only occurred before in lower districts, but now probably is because District 2 simply doesn't like us. "Is it hard, having to mentor the tributes?"

My mind keeps dwelling to the upcoming Games. They're only a few months away now, and I worry. I worry for the tributes who will volunteer as I did, thinking they will be earning some sort of glory. I wish I could tell them how empty victory really is, but they wouldn't believe me. It's the sort of thing you have to experience to really know.

Finnick sighs. "At first, yes. But then...I suppose...you get used to the realisation that at least one of them is going to die. You become numb, because you have to, other it would hurt too much."

I fall silent and think about his words. I always idolise Finnick, but when I've watched him sleep, I see that he's still so very young. Unlike me, he doesn't have family to fall back on. Apart from Mags, who is getting on in years, he's so very alone. I want to hold him close, but the thought makes my cheeks burn, and I roll onto my side and focus on something that isn't Finnick Odair.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I take a deep breath as we pull into the station at District 1. Elethea's stylist has clearly decided to go for the innocent little girl approach, because she is wearing a baby-blue dress, her hair in pigtails. Personally, I think she looks ridiculous. She's only short, but she isn't a little girl anymore. Elethea looks as displeased with her outfit as I am, tugging irritably at the hem of her dress.

"I look horrible," she complains.

"You look fine," I reply, causing her to glower sullenly at me. None of the people outside are waving or cheering as the train pulls to a stop. She's nervous about what they'll think of her. To be honest, I am too.

"Don't lie. We both know I look about five years old."

Maybe not quite that young, but I think she should have been given the image of a tough, ruthless teenager rather than trying to make her look like a twelve-year-old. Not that it's working – Elethea's curves defy the image of childishness that she's meant to be conveying. Okay, no. I'm not going to look at her like that. She's practically my kid sister in everything but blood.

Elethea takes a deep breath and steps off the train, smiling so wide that I know her face must hurt. I force a smile of my own and we wave to the population of District 1. At first they're unenthusiastic...they can't help it, she's Silver's killer. Then they respond more favourably, knowing that they're meant to tolerate and celebrate the presence of any Victor. Maybe Elethea's little girl appearance is doing more for her than I first thought.

We make our way to the Justice Building along with Jehovah, who steps forward to fix one of Elethea's pigtails. She frowns and shoots him a cold look, and he immediately desists. There's something about being looked at like that by a fourteen-year-old that makes you recoil. Once we enter the Justice Building, we're greeted warmly by the Mayor, Klaus Metronome.

"Elethea, sweetheart, don't you just look lovely." Metronome makes the mistake of cooing to her like she's a small child. She responds by flashing him a smile – good girl, she's been learning from me – but her eyes remain icy. I notice that over by a table of drinks and refreshments, Cashmere and Gloss Delucan stand in silence.

Gloss and I size each other up. We're the same height and around the same age – Gloss is a year younger. His lip curls in contempt, and something bright flashes through his eyes as he frowns at Elethea. Cashmere has always been the one to smooth over her brother's hot temper. She crosses over to Elethea and I and immediately holds out her hand for the dark-haired girl to shake.

"Hi, Elethea. You probably remember me from the Victory Banquet. I'm Cashmere."

Her frank attitude immediately seems to buy her points with Elethea, as the young girl smiles and shakes Cashmere's hand. She draws back and glances over at Gloss, who is watching with his arms folded over his chest. Cashmere frowns at her younger brother.

"Gloss, don't be rude. Come over here."

He rolls his eyes and saunters over, holding out his hand to Elethea and examining her like she's poisonous. She appears just as reluctant, taking his hand and shaking it. She winces and I can tell he's squeezing her little fingers. I throw him a glare and he steps back, a smug smile across his lips.

"I don't see how she won. Look at her. She's a little girl."

"I'll be fifteen in a few days," Elethea replies, her green eyes narrowing. I know from experience that she hates being referred to as a child. She might have taken well to Cashmere, but Gloss is another story entirely. He sneers derisively at her response, his eyes raking over her figure. It's the same sort of cold, calculating look Romulus might have given her. It doesn't endear me to him.

"Face it, you're a kid," Gloss states, throwing Cashmere an irritated glance before he turns and walks out of the room. She sighs and tosses back her blonde hair. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to deal with his tantrums.

"I'm sorry about Gloss," she says, looking slightly embarrassed, "He can be...well, he's temperamental, and can sometimes be prone to violence."

I don't know Gloss that well. He won the Games before Elethea's, so I've only associated with him briefly. We just don't like each other that much, although Cashmere is more amiable, and we get along due to a certain shared situation. But if Gloss tries anything volatile with Elethea, I won't hesitate to hurt him. I swore an oath to myself that I would protect her, much as Dom tried to protect her during the Games. But the more I see the hardness in Elethea's eyes now, the more I start to think she can protect herself.


	13. When It All Falls Apart

**Chapter Thirteen: When It All Falls Apart**

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**A/N: Well, only a few days before my exam and I'm putting out another chapter...I must be crazy! Please review, I'm already almost finished the next chapter and the faster you guys review, the more I'm inspired to finish off the chapter! ;)**

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_"I may seem crazy, or painfully shy_

_But these scars wouldn't be so hidden_

_If you would just look me in the eye."_

_- Cut, Plumb_

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

The Capitol celebration is always the biggest. I haven't been since my own, but that was only four years ago in any case. I remember being disgusted at the fact that the Capitolians take drinks to throw up their food so that they can have more, when in District 12 people are literally starving in the streets. They shouldn't be allowed such extravagance, but what can we say? Nothing.

"Don't you look lovely," I grin at Elethea, making her flush as she approaches me at the dinner held in her honour. I think everything's a little overwhelming for her, but she'll just have to get used to the life of a Victor. She doesn't look like a child tonight – she looks like a young woman, older than a girl who just turned fifteen yesterday. Her hair spills down her back in raven-black curls, and her dress is deep green and strapless, revealing a decent amount of curves.

_Shit, Finnick, stop thinking about her like that!_ It has to be because I'm not used to having friends around my own age. Most of the other Victors are older than me. Okay, so yes, I guess I've thought about Cashmere that way – who wouldn't, she's stunning. This relieves me, because knowing that I've thought of other Victors as attractive doesn't make me some sort of paedophilic creep when it comes to Elethea.

"Finnick." I wince slightly as Hyperion Dormer claps me on the shoulder as though we're good mates – which we're definitely not. I turn away from watching Elethea conversing animatedly with Lucilla Asterbury and Plutarch Heavensbee to glance at him. "I should have expected to find you here. What happened, none of the other Victors keen for a return trip?"

The District 4 Victor before me is a man named Elijah Tarver, and he won the 55th Hunger Games. He's bipolar and schizophrenic. It's little wonder that Mags is one of the few sane Victors around. We have several of them alive and she's the oldest, but I think she's also one of the ones who don't have any mental or psychological disorders. I shrug in response to Hyperion's question, and he laughs. It's a harsh sound that grates on the ears.

"Oh, I think I know why you're tailing around after her," he states casually, "Such a protective older brother figure, isn't that so?"

Hyperion's eyes have turned from me and there's suddenly lust in them. I follow his gaze and I feel sick for reasons that has nothing to do with the regurgitating drinks. It's Elethea. She's the one he's staring at with desire on his face...but no. That's wrong, it's so wrong. She's fifteen, he's a man of twenty-eight. A heavy weight settles in the bottom of my stomach. A look like Hyperion's can only mean horrible things to come.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I'm glad that I'm going home to District 4 today, and even more grateful that I had Finnick with me during the Victory Tour. I don't know how I would have done without his help. Yet there's apprehension knotting deep within me. President Snow has asked to speak with me, just before we depart for District 4. It's a terrifying prospect, but I wonder if it's a regular thing for Victors.

I wander nervously into the room where the President is waiting for me. I don't know why he wants to speak to me. I think I'm more worried than I've ever been in my life. I fidget with my hands, glancing at the thin old man who sits behind the mahogany desk. He offers me a fleeting smile, but his eyes remain cold.

"Ah, Miss Ambrose."

"President Snow." I stumble over the words, realising with mortification that I've got no clue what his proper form of address is. "Sir."

"Please. Sit." Snow indicates the plush chair opposite him, and I anxiously take my seat. Why does he want to speak to me last minute? Am I in some kind of trouble? "I have a proposition for you. It's unusual for one of your young age, but I have been persuaded…"

"Yes?" My stomach coils even tighter now, like the knots I tied in training before the Games. It can't be anything good. The first night in the Capitol was enjoyable, although during the celebration Finnick turned grim for reasons I couldn't fathom. Since then, he'd been solemn during the entire trip. Did he know something I didn't?

"I would like you to become a courtesan for the Capitol."

"Excuse me?" The words are blurted out before I even know what I'm saying. I'm still trying to process what he just said. A courtesan…like a _prostitute_? He wants me to sell my body to Capitolian men? I must have misunderstood. I'm barely fifteen, there has to be some kind of mistake. My mouth goes dry.

"I want you to work for the Capitol," Snow rephrases the sentence as if that will somehow make it more appealing to me. "Normally, we would wait until you turned sixteen, but…circumstances change. A close colleague of mine is very much drawn to your innocence, and would pay a very large sum for your virginity."

I gnaw at my lip. Which colleague is this? There wasn't anyone at the celebrations that approached me with a sleazy intent. Whoever this colleague is, they've kept their distance so far.

"With all due respect sir, I'm only fifteen."

"You do have the option of refusal," Snow puts in, but his eyes seem to become even colder, "But I should warn you that if you do, you will lose something very dear to you. I doubt your mother and little brother would benefit if you didn't choose to accept my offer."

"Who would I be…" I could hardly bring myself to say the word. "Servicing?"

"Anyone who asks for you," Snow said calmly, which didn't help my confidence at all. I was being offered out to men all around the Capitol? Disgust rises up within me, in the form of bile. I thought I might throw up.

"Does this happen to all Victors?" I whisper.

"Some," Snow admits, waving a careless hand. "You are young and attractive. Even at your young age, you are already desired by one of the wealthiest men in the Capitol. You should feel honoured. You are a virgin, no doubt, but you will learn new skills quickly."

It is more of a command than a statement. I know what I feel, and it certainly isn't honoured. I want to argue, but I know the wisest thing to do is accept this. It breaks my heart, but I'm not risking Mum and Leon getting hurt for the sake of my pride. If this is what I have to do to protect them, so be it.

"Yes, sir," I mumble, unable to meet the President's cold eyes. "May I be excused now?"

He inclines his head and I push myself to my feet and walk stiffly out of the room. Only once I've turned down the corridor do I allow myself to cry, pressing my face into my hands and making no attempt to stop the tears from flowing. This is wrong, so very wrong. The only problem is, there's nothing I can do about it.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

Since we've returned to District 4, Elethea has been quiet…too quiet. When we sit on the beach, she stares longingly out at the ocean like she hopes she can swim away. Did she see the way Hyperion looked at her? Is that what's frightening her? Even Rayne has noticed it, watching her daughter with worried eyes. Young Leon remains oblivious, but he's only twelve years old. As the silence stretches over days, weeks, I know I have to say something.

We're down at the beach, but instead of her usual black one-piece, Elethea is wearing black shorts and a white singlet. She fiddles with the strands of her hair, with the sand between her toes. Anything to avoid looking at me. Have I done something wrong by her? Worse still, has she discovered my…occupation? I didn't do anything when we were in the Capitol, but whispers have a tendency to linger no matter how old they are.

"Are you alright?" I ask of her, causing her to nod mutely. Frustrated, I reach out and catch her wrist. She flinches and I realise how fragile she is, how young still. Did Hyperion approach her privately? It's the worst thing I can think of and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. "Elethea, sweetie. Please talk to me. You haven't been the same since the Capitol, and I'm worried. Did a man…touch you?"

"No!" Elethea exclaims, a little too sharply. I can see by her green eyes that she isn't lying, but her face has suddenly become guarded. She examines me suspiciously. "Finnick. If I ask you a question, will you promise not to lie to me?"

"That depends on the question, darling," I reply, trying to keep my tone at an easy drawl. But I think I already know what Elethea is going to ask me. I don't want to lie to her, but it's a secret. Normally I have to work to gain my own secrets, whispers of lovers instead of money. But I'm not asking a price of Elethea for my truth.

"Do you have to…have sex with people? For money, I mean."

There it is. Perhaps people were saying things after all. I did notice Elethea talking to Lucilla Asterbury during the parties. She's only a fifteen-year-old girl. How could they possibly think she'd understand what I have to go through.

"Yes." I swallow and realise she isn't the only one avoiding eye contact. "I was a bit older than you when it started – sixteen, I think. President Snow approached me and I accepted, because I was afraid what might happen to my family. Then a man tried to buy me to take the virginity of his twelve-year-old daughter. She was eager, excitable…she was a _kid_. She'd be even younger than you now and I just…I couldn't. It was wrong. So Snow had my parents killed to remind me who was in control. And I never refused a client again."

Elethea is shocked. I don't blame her – I don't generally tend to speak about what happened to my parents, but now the truth is out in the open. Maybe it's better to open the floodgates, because I feel like a weight has been shifted off my shoulders, just by telling Elethea the truth. She places a hand on my arm and nibbles at her lip.

"Fin, I'm so sorry. I never realised."

"I hope you never truly do," I reply, my voice hoarse with tears I won't cry. "I hope you never have to understand."

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I don't have dinner, because I feel sick. I feel sick at knowing that Finnick confessed everything to me and I didn't even tell him the truth about what happened in the Capitol. I keep trying to convince myself it's to spare him another burden, but is that yet another lie? I curl on the bathroom bench, examining myself critically in the mirror. What is it that makes me _pretty_, that makes me _desirable_?

I don't see any kind of beauty staring back at me. I see a girl with wide green eyes, a too-small nose and too-full lips. I see too many freckles and a curvy figure that should belong to a woman twice my age. I look stupid. How can someone so tiny have hips and boobs? It just looks ridiculous. Is ridiculous the Capitol's definition of beauty?

I immediately push myself away from the mirror, ashamed of staring too long. Yes, people say I'm pretty. Yes, I know that I'm definitely not ugly, but my features just aren't what I would call attractive. Now Finnick, he's the sort of person whose beauty is undisputed. But I pity him, because he's going through the same thing that I'm going to experience.

The thing that makes me nervous though is the fact that I'm a virgin. I don't want to lose my virginity to a paying customer. I want it to be special – but since I won the 69th Hunger Games, I know that Victors suffer for many years to come. I can still see Finnick suffering now, and it scares me. I thought I would bring myself glory. Instead all I did was voluntarily induct myself into a world of pain and misery.

Then there have been the nightmares. It's only ten days until the Reaping now, and every night I wake up in a cold sweat, crying out my brother's name. Leon is twelve now. There's very little chance he'll get picked, especially when there are many eager to volunteer – but that's the problem. What if my baby brother _does_ want to volunteer? I can't let him make the same mistakes I did.

Mum keeps trying to console me. She keeps telling me that the Capitol has already had a tribute from our family and there's only a slight possibility that Leon would ever get picked now because of my victory. I'm not so certain. I know the Capitol does things for its own entertainment…and what would be more entertaining than reaping the little brother of the youngest current Victor?


	14. Caged

**Chapter Fourteen: Caged**

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**A/N: Hi guys! I've noticed a bit of a drop in reviews...I'm not sure if this is because this story is delving into some pretty mature themes (from next chapter on, the rating is going up to M), but I'd really like to know your thoughts. So yeah, even a little review would make me very happy :)**

* * *

_"For what I've done, I start again_

_And whatever pain may come_

_Today this ends_

_I'm forgiving what I've done."_

_- What I've Done, Linkin Park_

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

Elethea fidgets with her hands as she sits beside me at the 70th Hunger Games Reaping. This is new to her, yet all too familiar. I know her eyes are fixed on the dark-haired boy in the twelve-year-olds section. Elethea would be devastated if anything happened to Leon, and all I can do is pray to whatever gods are out there that they'll spare her little brother. Jehovah is as upbeat as ever, genially ignorant to the solemnity of Victors such as Elethea and myself.

"We'll start with the ladies, shall we?"

I have to hold my breath. This time last year, young Elethea had pushed her way to the front of the congregation with blazing green eyes and a fierce determination to win. She had won – but the cost of that victory had been incredibly high. She looks so much older now, even though she is barely fifteen. Her face is gaunter, her expression grimmer.

"Annie Cresta!"

A brunette girl of about sixteen nervously makes her way up to the front. This year, nobody volunteers. Perhaps seeing what Elethea did last year was enough to put them off. Annie is visibly nervous as she reaches the stage, although she manages a faint smile. I can see Elethea already sizing up the older girl, trying to see if she would make a worthy tribute. In the meantime, Jehovah is fiddling around in the boys' bowl.

"Nate Dolorin."

A weedy boy from the thirteen-year-olds section glances around and prepares to step out, but he's quickly pushed aside by a stocky boy from back in the seventeen-year-olds section. He's got sharp, restless eyes and almost a mohawk.

"I volunteer."

"Name?" Jehovah inquires as the boy reaches the stage. Annie is fairly tall, perhaps five foot seven, but this boy easily towers over her. He's probably about my own height and he meets Jehovah's gaze with a shark-like smile. I can already tell that he's a typical Career, another Xander or Romulus.

"Hector Maverick."

He offers Annie a wink, as though she's going to swoon over him because he thinks he's some kind of charmer. He might be good-looking, if his features weren't so sharp. Annie remains distracted, twisting her hands worriedly. A volunteer and a reaped tribute. Well, this should be interesting. One is way too cocky and the other definitely doesn't have enough confidence. I glance pointedly at Elethea and she follows my lead, trailing into the Justice Building.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

If there's one thing I know about this year's tributes, it's that I already don't like Hector Maverick. I observe the pair of them critically. Hector lounges about on a couch on the train like he owns the damn place, whereas Annie is more reserved. He's been nothing but snide and dismissive towards me, and I can guess that it's because of Dom's death. It used to hurt, but I can now accept the fact that there are those in District 4 who will always hate me for it.

"So first thing you have to know is to stay away from the Cornucopia," I state, making the two of them glance my way. I figure if I at least start to sound like a mentor then I can get into the right mindset for it.

Hector rolls his eyes. "That's redundant."

"She's right." Finnick leans against the table and he steps forward, glancing disdainfully at a now scowling Hector. "If you want to die in the bloodbath, go run into the Cornucopia."

"Wow, why so sarcastic?" Hector drawls, folding his arms across his powerful chest and raising his eyebrows. He obviously has little respect for Finnick, and absolutely none at all for me. He's stupid though, because we're the ones trying to keep him alive. "Between you and the kid…"

"I'm not a kid!" I snap, my temper flaring. I'm fifteen now. Any childhood I had was left behind during my Games. I'm small, but that doesn't mean I'm content to be treated like someone a third my age.

"That's true." Hector laughs and sizes me up, his next words are crude. "You've got boobs. What's your bra size, honey? Double D?"

"Shut up!" I snarl, already sick of his mocking attitude. He treats me like I'm not even a person, let alone his mentor. He has the guts to mock me on my figure as well, which has absolutely nothing to do with him.

"Enough," Finnick warns. I fall silent, but it seems like Hector's stupider than he looks, because he leans back and raises his eyebrows challengingly.

"Or what, tough guy?"

"Or I will break your nose and ensure you don't get any sponsors," Finnick informs him dryly. I glance at Annie to see what she thinks of all this. Clearly she doesn't like Hector any better than the rest of us, judging by the distaste of her face when she glances at him.

"Why are you so defensive of her?" Hector glances between me and Finnick, before a suggestive smile dawns across his face. I don't like the gleam in his eyes, or what I think he might be implying. "Oh…_that's_ why…"

"Don't assume you know the reason," Finnick says tightly. I've seen so many different sides to Finnick these past few months. He can be charming and suave, he can be nonchalant and relaxed, he can be cold and ruthless. He clearly doesn't appreciate the suggestion that he's sleeping with me, and I have to try not to flush. "From your tone, I have a general idea what you're insinuating."

"I'm a virgin!" I protest angrily. Why does this guy automatically assume that I'm some sort of slut, and just sleeping with Finnick for no apparent reason? I mean sure, if Finnick wanted to I don't think I'd object…but wait, no. He's four years older than me. There's no way Finnick would ever see me like that. I'm more of a little sister in his eyes.

"Maybe I could teach you a few things," Hector suggests, and I don't know if he's serious or not because of his feigned leering.

"If you want her to break your wrists," Finnick responds. I feel a surge of gratitude towards him, because he didn't rush to my defence but implied that I can defend myself. It makes me feel good, like I have some kind of power.

"Yeah, she's good at hurting people from her own district," Hector's eyes glitter with malice. "I nearly forgot about Dom."

Anything, _anything_ but Dom, I would have been able to handle. But the memory still stings like salt water in a wound too fresh, and I knock him off the couch and to the ground, my temper rising.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about him. Not _ever_."

"You little bitch!" Hector snarls, clearly embarrassed by being pushed around by a _little girl._ He slaps me hard and my head cracks to the side, vision whirling. Finnick is across the room in an instant, grabbing Hector and punching him hard enough to break his nose. Hector groans in pain, trying to stop the flow of blood.

"What the _fuck_?" He spits angrily. "You're both mad. She attacked me!"

"If you had kept your mouth shut, she wouldn't have," Finnick responds coolly. I can see that the mention of Dom fuels his fire too – and maybe it's also got to do with Hector lashing out at me.

"She's just a piece of ass. Who cares?" Hector states, and Finnick looks like he wants to punch him again. Hector examines him with something like trepidation. Good, now he knows Finnick isn't someone to be messed with. "Why are you so protective of her?"

"If you needed to know, I'd tell you," Finnick says icily.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

It's been a long day. The chariot rides went well, with both Annie and Hector playing their part to perfection. That's always the problem with Hector, though. I never knew when he was going to do something stupid. I probably shouldn't have hit him on the train, but seeing him slap Elethea made me so _angry._

I keep having to remind myself that she isn't a little girl anymore. She doesn't need a knight in shining armour. She doesn't need me to protect her. Even now she lies beside me, sleeping restlessly. She came to me earlier claiming that she couldn't sleep alone, and shyly asking if she could stay in my room with me. If she was a bit older, a bit different, I might have suspected ulterior motives. But Elethea fell straight to sleep, her soft breathing almost a comfort.

Annie and Elethea seem to get along well. That makes me smile a little. It's rare for people to be completely comfortable at first around someone as tempestuous as Elethea. Annie is quiet, and maybe that's why they get along. After dinner, both girls curled up on the couch and Elethea discussed strategies with Annie, while the older girl listened in patient smile. Annie's definitely not stupid. Maybe she stands more of a chance than Hector.

Sometime later, I wake up to the sound of Elethea crying. I roll onto my side and glance at the dark-haired girl, curled in a ball and sobbing into the pillow. I feel pity for her, for I know it must be because she's still grieving for Dom's loss. She still feels guilty that she was the one to end his life. I reach across and stroke her hair. She turns over, teary green eyes staring at me in askance. I swallow hard.

"You're not alone, El," I whisper, pulling her into my arms. She's like my little sister. I'd give anything to help her find some sort of comfort, to help shelter her from the miserable world Victors have to face. "I'm here for you, okay?"

"But I am," Elethea sobs, wiping at her eyes and then fisting her hands in my shirt. "You don't understand. I am alone. We're all alone."

I wonder, not for the first time, what a mercy it would have been if Romulus had snapped Elethea's neck instead of trying to force himself on her. As I rub Elethea's back in soothing circles, I know it must seem cruel to wish a young girl dead. But wouldn't death be far a more peaceful end than the nightmares she's forced to suffer through, nightmares I understand all too well?

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I can see the spiking line that indicates my heartbeat as I lie on the table in nothing but a crinkly white hospital dress. Apparently, I have to undergo several tests before I can be subject to the whims of whichever Capitol man wants me first. The thought makes me shudder. I hope the tests say there's something wrong with me, something that prevents me from being able to have sex with these sick men.

"I want you to lift your legs so they're bent at the knees, then open your legs." I'm so relieved that my doctor is female, considering my state of undress. I'm a little embarrassed as I do as she instructs, but the moment I feel something cold and metallic probing near a private area of mine, I start to panic. I squirm on the table, but the doctor rests a gentle hand on my shoulder to appease me.

"It's okay, sweetheart. No one's going to hurt you. You're fifteen years old, am I right?" I nod as she puts away her tools after a few moments. "You're quite young. Alright, I've had your measurements brought in from your stylist. Height: 157 centimetres. Weight: 47 kilograms. Clothing size: 8. Shoe size: 5. Bust size: 8D. Does that sound accurate?"

I nod, a little embarrassed that the doctor knows so much about me. It feels like nothing is a secret in the Capitol. My bra size? Why the hell do they need to know that? I'm really hoping I don't need to wear some kind of sexy lingerie. The thought makes me cringe.

"Now, Miss Ambrose, have you engaged in any sexual activity?" The doctor inquires, pulling out an electronic tablet.

I shake my head. The most I've done is let Dom touch my breasts, and I didn't think that was the kind of sexual activity the doctor was talking about.

"No. I…I'm a virgin."

"And you have started your period?" The doctor inquires. Her tone is casual, but my cheeks burn with heat.

"When I was thirteen, yeah."

The doctor nods again, tapping something into the pad. "Well, everything appears to be in order, Miss Ambrose. I shall inform my superiors that you are on the market, so to speak."


	15. Say So Long To Innocence

**Chapter Fifteen: Say So Long To Innocence**

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**A/N: So...rating's gone up to M! I think we can all guess what that's for...yes, there is sex involving a minor in this chapter, but I assure it's CONSENSUAL. However, there will be some dark themes in future chapters dealing not only with the Games, but also Elethea and Finnick's prostitution, just so you're all aware. Please do review! I want to know if I did okay with this or not.**

* * *

_"Say so long to innocence_

_From underneath the evidence_

_You taste like heaven_

_But god knows you're built for sin."_

_- Built For Sin, Framing Hanley_

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I thrash agitatedly with images of my Games burning within my mind, hands fisted in the sheets. My violent movements make me knock over a lamp, and I wince when it smashes as it hits the ground. I sit bolt upright, raking my hands through my sweaty hair. So it would seem Elethea's not the only one having nightmares. I haven't stopped, not since the 65th Hunger Games. I won, but it hurts me, too. It hurts me five years later.

"Fin?" A small, curvy figure stands in the doorway. It's Elethea. She tentatively crosses over and touches my shoulder, climbing onto the bed beside me. I think that instead of me comforting her, it looks like she's going to be the one to look after me tonight. "Ssh, it's okay."

"El?" I examine her with wide eyes. Why are we so broken? I never thought I'd have to rely on sharing my bed with a fifteen-year-old girl just to make my nights bearable. She's fierce and hot-tempered, but Elethea is also capable of the utmost sympathy. She shifts closer, watching me carefully.

"What's wrong? Why were you thrashing?"

"Nightmare," I mutter, a cold sweat having broken out across my forehead. Elethea slides under the blankets beside me, putting her arms around me and stroking my hair. It's oddly comforting, despite her being the younger one. I rest my head against her chest and stare up at the ceiling.

"What was it about?" she asks cautiously.

"The Games." I swallow. She holds me close to her, rhythmically stroking his bronze hair. I'm so close that I can hear her heartbeat, and I have to admit that her ample breasts provide a good pillow.

"What happened to your district partner?" Elethea sounds uncertain, although she doesn't want to ask because she fears upsetting me.

"She was killed." I let my eyes flutter closed. "By District 1."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here for you," Elethea says gently. She kisses the top of my head and I shift closer, clinging to her like I'm the child. Everything about her is soft and warm. "Are you scared?"

"Yes," I confess softly. I can't help but be soothed by the motion of her hand as she keeps stroking my hair. It's been a long time since anyone looked after me like this. She sees that despite the fact that I'm a tall and muscular young man, the frightened little boy still remains.

"Am I comfortable pillow?" She inquires. "Not too bony?"

I grin, a shadow of my trademark charming smile but a smile nonetheless. "Your boobs are good pillows."

She laughs, and the sound vibrates throughout her body. "Sleep."

I close my eyes and drift off to the comforting feeling of Elethea stroking my hair back from my face.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

Morning finds me curled on my side with Finnick's arm around me. The sheets are tangled around my waist and my shirt is hiked halfway up my stomach, and I realise that despite being with Finnick, I've had a restless night's sleep. My movement causes Finnick to tighten his grip on me almost protectively, his arm brushing against the bare skin of my stomach. I shift closer instinctively, opening my eyes when he buries his face in my long dark hair.

I watch with a smile as he continues to sleep peacefully. He really does look young, and watching him sends emotions spiralling through me, things I don't understand, things I haven't been able to feel since Dom's death. I firmly push them away, gently removing Finnick's arm and tugging my shirt down. Finnick shifts onto his stomach, face pressed into the pillow, and I hesitantly lean across to stroke his soft hair. He stirs and I draw my hand back.

"Fin?" I watch as he yawns and stretches himself out. I find it weird, being in here with him. A good weir, though. Last night, I'd been the protector instead of the one constantly needing protection.

"Hm?" Finnick glances at me with sleepy sea-green eyes, before he comes to his senses and sits up a little. "Yeah?"

"I feel funny." I draw my knees to my chest. There's no doubting it now. Is it an innocent curiosity, or something more? I don't want to screw things up with Finnick. My relationship with Dom had been good while it lasted, but both of us had always known that one of us had to die. Can I be the same with someone if I know I'm going to live?

"What kind of funny?" He glances across at me with a quizzical expression on his face. Oh god, I hope he doesn't think I'm talking about my period or anything like that.

"I…" I flush, my cheeks burning bright red. "Never mind."

"No." Finnick shakes his head. He's insistent now, and I know him well enough to know that there's no chance of him backing down. "Tell me."

"Like I want to kiss you," I whisper, mortified that I'd actually said those words. What would Finnick think of me? Of course, he'd probably see me as some silly little girl with a crush. I immediately try and seek an escape from my embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'll go now."

Finnick catches my arm and I look at him closely. He really is gorgeous. But there is no chance a boy so good-looking could ever want to be with me. Half of my mind is screaming at me to stop as I lean in, but it's like I'm on a collision course and I just can't stop. I press my lips against Finnick's.

He doesn't pull away, so I become enthusiastic, almost excited. Finnick puts his arms around my waist and pulls me close. I sidle closer, somewhat awkwardly shifting into his lap. All I know about kissing the rest is what I experienced with Dom. I press my lips harder against his, craving more, but I know he can't give it the moment he draws back.

"El…" His voice is husky, like some part of him wants this, but… "You're a child. You're fifteen. I'm nineteen. I'm way too old for you."

I bite my lip, and I'm furious with myself. Stupid, _stupid_ girl. Of course he doesn't want to kiss me. He wants someone more mature, not just some silly kid. I lift my chin boldly, like his words don't hurt at all. But they do. The word 'child' is like a knife. Because I'm not. No matter what he says, I'm not a child anymore. I feel young and foolish and I want nothing more than to escape my mortification. Of course Finnick isn't _interested in me. _Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"A child." I immediately push myself away from him. Romulus didn't seem to think I was a child when he started touching me during my Games. I don't want to bring the incident up, but it stings to know that one of the few people I care about anymore has utterly rejected me.

Finnick grimaces. "No, sweetie, I didn't mean it like that…"

"Don't call me 'sweetie'!" I exclaim. I can feel angry tears welling my eyes. Oh god, I really don't want to cry in front of him. I have to get out before I do. I find myself running, and although I hear Finnick calling my name, I don't once turn back.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I don't think I've ever been more conflicted in my life. I groan and thump the pillow with my fist once Elethea flees. I didn't mean to insult her. I saw the hurt in her eyes when I called her a child, and it's not what I meant at all. I just have to push her away, because I'm already getting way too close. She's so much younger than me. I can't possibly _want_ her…and yet the problem is, some part of me does.

There is no denying that Elethea Ambrose is beautiful. She has a woman's curves too, which really doesn't help with my teenage hormones. I want to kiss her. I want to touch her. I want…no! No way. She's fifteen years old, and I am _not_ going to have sex with her. I've seen my share of beautiful women in my time, but most of them are cold and dismissive. Elethea radiates warmth and empathy.

She's such a sweet girl, even though she tries to hide that behind all of her sarcasm and fire. Yet I know it's probably a passing attraction. I've never been really close to any others my age, and Elethea is the first Victor from 4 who is even remotely close to my age. We are very close, but that doesn't mean we're destined to be something more. No, this is the stupid part of me, the part that thinks dreams can become reality. But everyone close to me has died, and I can't bring myself to start something with Elethea when it's destined to be doomed.

Trying to pull my thoughts together, I get to my feet and rake my hair back. What I really need is a hot shower. While I'm in the water, it's hard to be angry or upset. When I get out, I'll find Elethea and try to explain what I meant. She isn't a child, and I know that, dammit I know that…which is why I keep trying to tell myself that she is.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

It wasn't often that I went to visit the dynamic Delucan duo from District 1. Okay, so I barely visited them at all. Gloss's condescension had a way of putting me off. But when Finnick had admitted to his prostitution, I'd seen all the signs in someone else. I was almost definite it was happening to Cashmere, too. So when I hammered on their door, I prayed to any gods in existence that it would be Cashmere to answer. Did I mention fate seems to hate me? Gloss opened the door, a frown coming over his face as he examined me.

"District 4. What are you doing here?"

"My name's Elethea," I remind him, not that he'll remember. "I wanted to speak to Cashmere. It's important."

"Is it?" Gloss's eyes rove over me again. Everything about him is cold and distant, but something tells me that's how he _wants_ to appear. I've been watching Victors enough to see that Gloss's self-destructive personality is simply a charade. "She's out."

"Is she with a client?" I ask daringly, and I watch as every muscle in Gloss's body stiffens. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me into their apartment, the door slamming shut behind me. He presses me against the wall, nails digging into my shoulders, his face set in a snarl.

"How do you know about that?" He demands, his grip tightening and making me wince. "Did Finnick put you up to this? Is that why you're here, to make fun of it?"

"No!" I exclaim, struggling against him. "I just wanted to talk to her, because it's going to be _my_ problem, too!"

Gloss looks astonished. He releases me and steps back. "But…you're…"

"A kid?" I snap. I've heard that word used way too many times today. "I'm fifteen years old. I'm not a child. But I am a virgin. President Snow says…there's a man who wants to buy my virginity."

Disgust twists Gloss's features. He and Cashmere were older than I was when they won their Games. I don't know if Cashmere was a virgin when she was first sold out, but Gloss's expression for once isn't disgust towards me, but at the people who are doing this to us. We're just the same, he realises that now.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" I don't mean to sound so pathetic, but my voice hitches. I don't know when this mysterious Capitolian is going to ask for me, but I know he will hurt me. He won't care when he does. "The first time. I don't want to. Not with some man I don't even know."

"You don't have a choice," Gloss's voice is heavy and he actually looks sympathetic. "If you refuse them, they will kill your mother. They'll kill your brother. They won't stop until you learn to obey. You have to do what they ask of you, even if it hurts."

I examine Gloss carefully. An idea is forming in my mind, and it's dangerous. I shouldn't even be considering it. Gloss is so hostile most of the time, he doesn't even like me. But he's good-looking and he's close to my age and he understands. I chew my lip thoughtfully, wondering if I can bring myself to ask the question on my mind.

"Will you help me?"

He looks a little surprised. "What do you mean? Help you how?"

"I just…"I flush, and the words come out in a hurried babble. "If you have sex with me first, I won't be a virgin and it won't hurt…I mean, I know you don't want to, and you don't think about me like that…I just want to get it over with."

I never thought I'd say that about losing my virginity. _I just want to get it over with._ But I would rather lose it to a Victor who won't hurt me, rather than a Capitolian who is a complete stranger to me. Gloss is examining me curiously, as if I've just spoken in another language. He swallows hard and then he nods.

"Okay. Alright. I'll do it. I mean…you are pretty."

He takes me by the wrist and tugs me into his room. I know that this is going to be hurried and unromantic, but I don't care. As long as Gloss is gentle with me, and I get the feeling he will be, I don't have a problem with it. He pulls his shirt off over his head and I take that as my silent cue to strip. My hands are shaking as I peel off my dress. I rub my arms as he turns to face me. All I'm wearing is my bra and undies. His eyes rake over me approvingly and I'm not sure whether or not to be flattered.

"Lie down on the bed," he instructs. I have no doubt that Gloss has done this before – after all, he is eighteen, and very attractive. Not as attractive as Finnick…no, I can't think about him. I lay back rather awkwardly and Gloss climbs on top of me. He kisses my neck and his hand slides up my back to unclasp my bra. I gasp, my cheeks flaring with heat as he removes the bra from my body. His kisses venture further downwards, across my collarbone, over my breasts. I can't help but gasp again and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

Gloss slides a hand up to touch my breast, but when I look up at him, I see no desire in his blue eyes. He sees this as some kind of duty, and although he seems to be enjoying it slightly, it's more for me than him. He pulls my undies off and I feel awkward and unsure. Gloss pushes two fingers into me and I bite my lip at the sudden invasion. It doesn't hurt, but it is uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" Gloss's eyes meet mine. He seems adamant about making sure that he isn't hurting me. When I nod, he undoes his pants and kicks them off. Frowning in thought, he grips my legs and spreads them, bending them at the knees. I feel exposed, but I know this is how it has to happen. I was the one who asked for this, so there can be no going back.

"This is going to hurt," Gloss warns me. I lick my dry lips and nod again. He positions himself and I can feel him there. I'm overcome by nervousness, but Gloss tries to relax me, peppering kisses down my stomach. Then he pushes inside me and I can't help a whimper of pain. It's sudden and sharp, but the sensation is over in a moment, although it's still uncomfortable. I find myself gripping Gloss's shoulders so hard that my nails dig little half-moon crescents into his skin. He groans and I hesitate.

"I'm sorry. Am I hurting you?"

"No." He shakes his head, voice slightly husky. "Feels good. Are you ready?"

"Yes." The word comes out in a small whisper. I want to be strong but this feeling is so uncomfortable and alien to me, and I know that I'm not ready for sex…but I have to do this. It's Gloss, or it's a Capitolian man. His hands find my hips and he draws back, before he pumps hard back into me. There's pain again as my barrier fully breaks and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out.

"Is it this painful the whole time?" I ask. He shakes his head, seemingly too concentrated on what he's doing. Gloss's movements are slow at first, getting me used to his size. It remains uncomfortable for a little, but I keep my arms around his neck and let him do as he likes, wondering what the hell I'm meant to do to reciprocate. It doesn't feel good. Everyone makes out that sex is amazing, but to me it's still uncomfortable and awkward. Maybe it's because I'm little that it still hurts a bit.

Gloss's thrusts become more erratic, harder, until he grunts and collapses on top of me, panting and covered and in sweat. He buries his face in my breasts and cautiously, I stroke his lank blonde hair. I'm still sort of coming to terms with what happened. It was both good and bad, but the main thing is that I'm not a virgin anymore, and I don't have to worry about a Capitolian man relishing in taking my innocence.


	16. Pretty When You Cry

**Chapter Sixteen: Pretty When You Cry**

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**A/N: Just a warning, this chapter has references to non-con/rape. Nothing too graphic or horrible, but if you don't like that kind of thing, best not to read it.**

* * *

_"I didn't want to hurt you_

_But you're pretty when you cry."_

_- Pretty When You Cry, VAST_

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

Elethea is shaking when I lead her up to the surveillance room to watch the Games. Hector was a natural in training, Annie was best in the interviews. Yet over the past few days, I feel like I've been mentoring them alone. Elethea was so distant – and while I tried not to be annoyed at her, knowing it was her first year and that was always difficult, I want her to stop staring into space and focus on something real. She knows everything is real now, though. Her green eyes are wide with horror as she took her seat along with the rest of us.

"I don't like this," Elethea murmurs, playing with her hands uncertainly. She seems to have changed over the past few days, although I can't say how. Maybe she's determined to act like she isn't a kid, to prove to me that she isn't a child as I mistakenly said she was. Her eyes flick between Hector and Annie, who are across from each other, the Cornucopia separating them.

This year, the arena resembles an old Wild West township – plenty of places for the tributes to hide. There's also a large dam on top of the hill overlooking the township. Clever, because if the tributes want to go for water there, they risk being brought down by the others due to the clear view of the dam from anywhere in the township.

The gong sounds and many of the tributes scuttle for the Cornucopia – Hector among them. _Stupid, stupid boy!_ Annie lingers back, a little uncertain what to do. The killing starts with the boy from 10 getting his hands on a small knife and repeatedly stabbing the girl from 6 as she comes at him. Her scream causes Elethea to pale significantly. Meanwhile, the other Careers have already managed to grab their weapons, not that there are many tributes for them to cut down. It seems like most of them fled to find a good hiding spot rather than stick around and take their chances.

Hector charges over for a spear, and the girl from 1 turns to face him. She assesses him closely, and my heart sinks as I realise what's about to happen. It makes sense. Hector wasn't well-liked by Elethea and I, so why would the rest of the Careers take a chance on him? The girl from 1 spins, her sword flying in an arch. Hector skids to a stop, but he's already too late. His eyes widen in horror, and then the sword separates his head from his neck.

About fifty metres away, Annie screams and screams as Hector's head hits the dirt. The girl from 1, spattered in Hector's blood, turns on her. Annie has the sense to run and I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch her make her getaway. Losing a tribute during the bloodbath is very uncommon for Career districts, especially when they're killed by another Career tribute. In her seat, Elethea's hands are balled into tight fists.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Elethea asks. She's shaking and she looks like she's about to throw up. It's an all too vivid reminder of her own Games from last year and I want to comfort her, but I know that I can't. Elethea has to be strong now. There's nothing to be gained from me babying her.

"I hope so," I murmur. Annie has always been quiet, but she has a resolve that I always thought Hector lacked. The fact that she's survived the bloodbath is good – but she doesn't have a weapon. It's going to be difficult for her to fend for herself if she doesn't make allies, yet it seems the Games have only just begun and already 1 and 2 have turned us out. I glare across at Gloss, but he merely raises an eyebrow in response to my hard stare.

"I feel like I need something to eat," Elethea states, pushing herself to her feet as five cannons go off. Five tributes…that's a very small number to have died during the Cornucopia, especially compared to last year's massacre. Elethea is shaky on her feet and I take her arm, steadying her.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she replies briskly, wrenching her arm from my grasp. I watch her leave and rake a hand through my hair, sighing heavily. There's something Elethea isn't telling me, and I can't help but think I have to find out what it is. She's been troubled since before Hector's death and despite it being none of my business, all I want to do is help. All I've ever wanted to do is help, but she keeps shutting me out.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I'm shivering even though it's not cold. The sheer black dress isn't exactly very concealing, and I feel like a child playing at being an adult with my black three-inch heels. I wrap my arms around myself as Hyperion Dormer crosses the hotel room and picks up a bottle of red wine. So he's the one who wants to take my virginity. Well, he can't have it, because I already gave it to Gloss. I feel a vicious surge of triumph, but I don't give anything away as he glances at me, raising an eyebrow elegantly.

"Would you like a glass?"

"I'm fifteen," I remind Hyperion, as though he'd forgotten, as though my young age will deter him. But it won't. He knows how old I am. He watched me fight for my life in the arena. He merely shrugs at my response, pouring himself a glass of red and gulping it down. I watch him with undisguised loathing. Is this what helps him sleep at night? Downing alcohol and pretending that drove him?

"Well, let's get started." Hyperion is all business and my knees are shaking as I get to my feet. The heels wobble and make it hard to walk, so I kick them off. It only makes me feel even smaller, more vulnerable. He picks up a remote and presses a button, making the blinds slide closed. He steps close as the lights flicker on, dim, casting the room into shadows.

"It's alright, sweet Elethea." He tilts my chin up as I try and stare hard at the floor. "I won't hurt you. You have to understand that in the Capitol, we're used to indulging ourselves. As a Gamemaker, I get what I want. What I want is you, my dear."

I promised myself that I would not cry, but even now tears blur my vision. Hyperion's arms find my hips and he pulls me against him. He reaches forward and I flinch, but he only tucks a strand of dark hair behind my ear. His hand runs up the small of my back, lips finding purchase on the tender skin of my neck. I remain still in his arms, knowing that if I fight I'll only make it worse, yet I can't bear to surrender. He steps back, eyes raking over me in consideration.

"Well, how about you start by taking that dress off?"

I nod mutely and slid the straps of the little black dress down my shoulders. He told me to put it on in the first place, and now he's telling me to take it off. I'm not wearing a bra underneath, and I instinctively wrap my arms over my chest as the dress slides to the ground. Hyperion strokes his goatee in thought.

"Put those arms down, darling. I want to see you."

Part of me dies then. It has to. I can't be alive during this, because if I was, I'd be screaming and fighting. Just like with Romulus in the arena. Yet I numb myself and let my arms fall, watching as Hyperion's eyes greedily take me in. I feel so ashamed of myself, so sick to the stomach. Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow hard.

"Beautiful," Hyperion states, obviously pleased as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "You're a lovely girl, Elethea, do you know that? Not like some of those little waifs from the lower districts. You've got a woman's body."

I can't help the tears that stream down my cheeks. It feels as though they aren't a part of me. I know I should grow up, that I was robbed of my childhood long ago…but that doesn't make it any easier. Hyperion lays me out on the bed and I'm about as responsive as a doll. The satin sheets are cold beneath my bare skin. I want to plead, but I won't stoop that low. Not to mention that I can't find my voice.

Hyperion's fingers are like spiders as they find my undies and drag them down, until I'm completely naked on the bed. I hear him unzip his pants and I screw my eyes shut. The only good thing about this will be if it's quick.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

The first thing I hear when I enter the District 4 apartments is crying. I know that it's Elethea, and immediately seek her out. I try and enter her room, but she's locked the damn door. Sighing heavily and wondering what this is all about, I rest my forehead against the door.

"Elethea, sweetheart. It's Finnick. Can I come in?"

"Don't call me sweetheart!" she exclaims, but a moment later the door unlocks, and I tentatively walk into the room.

Elethea is curled up on the bed, knees tugged to her chest. She looks up and me – and oh god her face, her pretty little face...her face is bruised and her bottom lip swollen and bloody. Fury rises within me, because I know that someone's hurt Elethea, and someone will have to pay. She's just a girl, why would someone do this to her? She notices me staring and buries her face in her hands, sobbing once again.

"El, please, who did this to you?" I sit beside her and draw her close, my arm tight around her shoulders. I almost expect her to push me away, but she doesn't. I notice the bruises in the shape of fingers around her wrists. Fucking hell, she's _fifteen years old._ Which son of a bitch thought it was okay to beat her up, and why did they do it? That's the most prominent question. _WHY?!_

"I'm not allowed to tell you," Elethea chokes out. She's scared out of her mind, and no wonder. I hold her close, shifting a little so that I can pull her into my lap. She's so light, so small in my arms. I rock her gently as her sobs start to die down slowly. Whoever did this to her, I'll kill them.

"I'll tear them apart," I promise her, clutching her tighter. "A name, El. Just give me a name, and I'll deal with them."

She laughs hoarsely. "Someone who has more power than you."

At least it wasn't another Victor. I know that Elethea and Gloss don't get along, and I was beginning to have my concerns. I exhale deeply and pull her closer still, planting a kiss atop her dark hair. She is brave and she can have a temper, but in truth Elethea is such a sweet girl. Why would anyone wish her harm? How could she have earned someone's wrath? I don't understand it, but I know that I can't push her to explain.

"Stay?" Elethea pleads, looking up at me with those big green eyes of hers. I want to, I really do, but I need to focus on Annie as well. She's still out there and she's alone. Sighing heavily, I carefully set Elethea on the bed, watching as she bites down on her lip hard.

"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. I've got work to do to sponsor Annie."

She turns over onto her side and I feel a prick of guilt, before I firmly remind myself that I have a responsibility to my tributes every year. Elethea is…she's special to me. She'll always have an important place in my heart no matter what, but right now, it's Annie that requires my attention. It's Annie's fight for survival now.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

_"You little slut!" Hyperion's fist connects with my face and I cry out in pain, throwing up my arms and trying to shield myself from the blows. Before sex, he seemed charming and suave, but now…no one ever told me that Hyperion had an unbalanced side, that he could change with alarming speed. As soon as he figured out that I wasn't a virgin like promised, Hyperion made it his task to hurt me._

_"I'm sorry!" I exclaim, but my pleas don't elicit any sympathy from the man. He grabs a fistful of my black hair and yanks back hard. I cry out again, tears stinging in my eyes. He slaps me across the face again and I choke out a sob._

_"Don't say you're sorry," he snarls, hurling me unceremoniously to the floor. "You were meant to be a virgin. Who have you been screwing around with, whore?"_

_I remain still. Maybe if I don't move, Hyperion won't think it's worth it. He gets to his feet and pulls up his pants, walking over to grab his shirt. I crawl across to grab my clothes, my face throbbing and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Hyperion aims a kick at me, and I yelp and curl in on myself._

_"When I ask a question, I expect an answer. I asked who got to you before me."_

_"None of your business," I snap, feeling the fire beginning to rise within me. I've played the victim long enough. I push myself to my feet, ignoring the aches in different parts of my body. I limp across to the mirror, tying back my hair and wiping the tears from my face. I have to look normal when I go back. I can't let Finnick suspect anything._

_Hyperion whirls me around and grabs me by the neck. For a horrifying moment, I think he's going to choke me. His eyes are glittering with anger and I feel so viciously pleased that I've deprived him of robbing me of something precious. He wanted the last shreds of my innocence, and I made sure he couldn't have them._

_"When I find out who he is, there's going to be hell to pay," Hyperion hisses, before he laughs in an unhinged way and traces a finger down my cheek. "But don't think you're getting out of it that easily, sweet Elethea. I'll be seeing you again soon."_

I surge upwards from my pillow, clutching the blankets tight around me. How was I meant to tell Finnick about what had happened? That my first client had beaten me because he found out that I wasn't a virgin? I press a hand over my racing heart, willing it to slow down. I have to control myself better than this. I won't be the frightened child anymore. I played that part all too well during my Games, and it didn't get me anywhere.

Sighing deeply, I relax back onto the pillows and pull the blankets over my head, as if that can somehow protect me from those who mean me harm. I wish Finnick was here. I like his warmth. But I understand he's busy. I close my eyes and he's the last thing I think about before I fall asleep.


	17. Shattered Silence

**Chapter Seventeen: Shattered Silence**

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**A/N: As always, thanks so much for the reviews! Let's see if we can get past 100! Thank you all for your support, you're amazing. Please let me know what you think, especially as Finnick and Elethea's relationship starts to change a bit ;)**

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_"Open up wide, swallow down deep_

_No spoonful of sugar could make this sweet_

_The cancer inside, stealing my sleep_

_Night after night, it keeps haunting me."_

_- Undone, FFH_

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

It's not often I seek out the company of District 1, but right now I feel as though I have little choice. Cashmere goes through the same pain I do, and I know that I can't talk to Finnick about what Hyperion's done. So I raise my hand and hesitantly press the buzzer, waiting in the hall until someone opens the door. Cashmere stands there, a laugh on her lips, but it dies when she sees me there with my arms folded almost protectively around myself. Her brow furrows into a frown.

"Elethea? What are you doing here?"

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." The words almost stumble over each other in my desperation to push them out of my mouth. Cashmere seems to understand my despair, because she silently holds the door open and allows me inside. Gloss is sitting on the couch and he frowns tersely when he sees me. Well, losing my virginity to him hasn't much changed his attitude towards me.

"Why is she here?" Gloss demands.

"Stop being so rude," Cashmere retaliates, which doesn't really surprise me. She's always been the nicer one, the Delucan sibling more likely to offer a helping hand rather than push someone away. I can't help but be instinctively drawn towards her, liking her. I think that's the impression she leaves most people with.

"I wanted to speak to you." I bite my lip and glance at Cashmere. "Alone."

"Gloss, could you give us a few minutes?" Cashmere asks, although the hint of authority holds strong within her voice. Gloss sighs heavily and gets to his feet, mooching into his room. Cashmere heads into the kitchen and pulls a jug of juice out of the fridge.

"Did you want some?" I shake my head, so she pours herself a glass. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Hyperion Dormer," I murmur, and something like alarm flares through Cashmere's eyes. I know then that she's been one of his victims too, and it doesn't surprise me in the least. Her grip on the glass of juice is so tight I'm slightly surprised it isn't cracking. Her expression morphs into something sympathetic.

"Oh, Elethea, not you too." Cashmere leans against the bench, but she doesn't say anything about me being too young for it. I think we both know where the Victors are concerned, there is no such thing as too young, or too old. Age doesn't matter. We're all tormented just the same.

"I can't stop thinking about it." I take a deep, shaky breath and force myself to remain calm. I am not a child anymore, I've been trying to convince too many other people as well as myself. So if I'm not a child, then I certainly can't cry like one, even if I really feel like I'm going to. "Is it always that bad?"

"Hyperion enjoys hurting Victors," Cashmere states bluntly, and I feel refreshed at her honesty. I don't want to be led along with stars in my eyes, believing things might turn out for the better. I want to hear the truth, even if it's harsh and even if it hurts. Finnick tries to protect me, but I don't need protection. "I didn't think he'd start on you when you're only fifteen. It's cruel of him, but he thinks we're all beneath him."

So it's going to happen again. The thought sends chills down my spine, but Hyperion himself said as much. I can't help but feel bile rising in my throat, but I simply nod, as though I can take this all in and be okay. As if I'm unbreakable. Maybe I am now – I've been shattered into so many pieces that how could the Capitol break me? I don't want to know the answer to that question.

"I might talk to Gloss," I state, raking a hand through my dark hair. Cashmere raises an elegant eyebrow, but doesn't question it. I slip into Gloss's room and he sits up from where he's lounging on his bed. He looks like he _wants_ to be sharp and accusatory. Yet something has changed.

"What?" he questions.

I lick my dry lips, feeling nervous. "I want to do it again."

We both know I'm talking about sex. Gloss sits up and for once, he's lost for words. Will he turn me away? Maybe it will serve me a lesson if he does. Instead he shifts so he's sitting on the edge of the bed and pats his lap. There's nothing romantic about it, but that's just the way I want it. Just sex, on my terms. I wander over and sit in his lap, facing him. Gloss runs a hand into my dark hair and kisses me.

He lays me down on the bed, hands working at pulling off my clothes. I keep my arms around his neck and stay quiet. It won't hurt, I know it won't. I'm not a virgin anymore. I trust him enough that this is okay. We don't like each other, but there's some kind of understanding. A mutual lust, maybe. Gloss's lips are all over my skin, and he mutters for me to be quiet so that Cashmere won't hear.

Suddenly, Gloss flips us so that I'm on top. At first, I'm confused by the action. I don't know what to do atop a man. I think maybe he's wanting to try something different by having me on top, but his eyes bore into mine.

"I thought you might want to be in control."

I can't help but smile. When it comes to the more sexual aspects of my life, Gloss knows me all too well. He knows that I need this, that I crave it, and that I don't want to be some kind of victim. That I can't be submissive all the time. Where Gloss knows me all too well, Finnick does not know me that way at all.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I don't think Elethea is expecting me when she enters the apartment. Maybe she thinks I was too busy with getting Annie sponsors, because she freezes when she sees me spread across the couch. I raise an eyebrow expectantly and she flushes bright red. It's only then that I notice her glossy black hair is messed up, her clothes are a little askew and there's a hickey on her neck. To the untrained eye it could mean anything, but I know more about sex than most. I know what Elethea's been doing.

_Please, oh god, not her too._ I've been thinking so desperately of that since her Victory. There is no denying that Elethea is a pretty girl. No doubt the Capitolians have noticed too – Hyperion certainly has. Where there is interest, there is demand. I force myself to keep calm as I get to my feet, wandering over and inspecting her closely. She appears uncomfortable with my examination, unwilling to meet my eyes.

"Who did this to you?" I demand. I swear, I'll kill them. God, she is little more than a child. Having her use to sate a man's pleasure is wrong on just about every level. She isn't mature enough, either physically or emotionally, to become a sex object for Capitolian man. Elethea shakes her head fervently.

"It's not what you think," she insists.

"How do you know what I think?" I ask of her, tilting my head to the side. I grip her wrist and her head snaps sharply upwards, her eyes meeting mine. "Did a Capitolian man…did he force you?"

"No!" Elethea cries, wrenching away from me as though my touch pains her. Her green eyes are wide with horror. "It's nothing like that. I just…I don't want to talk about it. Not with you."

Her last three words sting. We are meant to trust each other. After all, she's all I have left. It hurts to think that she's keeping secrets from me. Childish as though it is, I thought we told each other everything. Yet as I have been trying to shield Elethea from the horrors of my occupation – without success – she has been protecting me as well, from things I probably am better not knowing. But I want to know anyway.

"Please tell me," I almost beg her. There's a fierce desire to know the truth, even if I'm probably better being ignorant.

"I slept with Gloss." Elethea plays with her hands, unwilling to meet my eyes. "A few times now."

Wait…Gloss Delucan from District 1? The last I knew, the two of them hated each other. When I think about it, unresolved sexual tension between them seems to make sense…but right now, I could break Gloss's arms. She's a fifteen-year-old girl, he shouldn't be taking advantage of her in such a way.

"Did he push you into this?" I question, folding my arms over my chest.

Elethea shakes her head fervently. "I was the one who convinced him."

I'm completely astounded. Little Elethea asked Gloss to have sex with her? Why would she do that? I feel betrayed without understanding why. Her innocence is lost now, the last shards that she had. It sounds sick in a way, but I wish it could have been me. It's not just because I want her, but because her first time should have been special, and I could have made it special for her.

"Are you out of your mind?" The words are out of my mouth before I can help it, and harsh enough to make Elethea flinch. "You're not old enough to make that sort of decision, Elethea. You're too young to have sex."

"Says who?" Elethea immediately flares up, planting her hands on her hips. "You? I'm not a child anymore, when are you going to see that?"

But I already do see that. I see that she is growing up fast, too fast for someone of her young years. What could have pushed her towards having sex with Gloss? She stares at me now with eyes hard as emeralds, narrowed in anger. If only I could tell her the truth, like she's told me. But what would Elethea say if I told her that I have some kind of attraction to her? I don't even know the full extent of it yet. Perhaps it's just because she's the first girl I've really been close to. My feelings are so confusing, do I really want to explore them?

"I still think he used you," I state. I just can't see it any other way. Gloss is eighteen, he knows better. Elethea's an attractive young girl propositioning sex, of course he's going to say yes. I feel fury towards him, even though some part of me knows that it's more Elethea's fault than Gloss's, and I just don't want to accept it.

"He did _not_ use me!" Elethea shouts, and there's a rage in her voice that wasn't there before. I've struck a nerve unintentionally, and her eyes well with angry tears that she doesn't let herself shed. "I used him. Didn't you ever think that I'm capable of getting my way, that maybe I'm not the little victim you think I am? Don't you remember what happened with Dom?"

I screw my eyes shut. Of course I remember what happened with Dom. I also know that Elethea continues to blame herself, despite his death being an accident on her part. Dom protected her and then she turned on him. She thinks there was nothing else to it, but I know better. I know that she didn't use Dom. She truly cared about him, and that fact shone out when she reacted so strongly to Dom dying in front of her.

"Elethea, sweetheart…"

"Don't." She laughs, but it's a bitter sound. "Don't call me little pet names, Finnick. Save it for the women who pay you."

I clench my jaw. "That's not fair. You know how they pay me? With secrets. So I suppose you've paid me after all."

"I don't want to use you like that," Elethea says quietly, averting her eyes. I can tell that she feels guilty about using that against me. I want her, but I can't tell her that. I don't just want her for sex. I want to hold her close and let her fall into a dreamless sleep, where she doesn't see the blood and bodies of the people she's killed.

"I know you don't, El." I step close to her and tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she watches me with questioning eyes. I pull her close and hold her to me, just revelling in her small, warm body. I plant a kiss on the top of her head and wish that we could stay this way forever.


	18. Their Words Tattooed

**Chapter Eighteen: Their Words Tattooed**

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**A/N: So as usual, let me know what you think of this chapter! Are Finnick and Elethea going too far? Or should they have more moments like this? You'll know what I mean by the end of the chapter ;) Thank you all, so damn much, for the amazing amount of reviews I've been getting! They really do make my day, so a huge thanks for getting me over 100!**

**Just a heads up: this is not the last chapter. I intend to do the 71st Hunger Games next, which are very important for reasons you'll soon discover, and then I'll be going onto the sequel, which will take place during the events of the books. Hope you enjoy!**

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_"You alone, you can see right through_

_This glass house we call home_

_You alone, you can take away the pain._

_Yeah, you have shown, you can_

_Break right through this glass house of our souls_

_Make us whole again, make us whole."_

_- Glass House, Red_

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

"Hmm? What's going on?"

I'm shaken awake very early in the morning, so early that the sun's not up yet and it's still dark outside. Finnick stands over me with a grim expression on his face and I fear the worst. I leap to my feet, almost tripping over the sheets in my haste. Is it Annie? Has something happened to her? I feel very cold all of a sudden and I'm wide awake despite having been half-asleep only moments ago.

"Finnick? What happened? Is Annie…?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. It's the hesitation that gets me. Maybe Annie's been badly injured. I frantically try and think of the tributes left in the arena. A resourceful boy from District 10. Both from District 5. The girl from District 1…the one who killed Hector. Maybe she's done something to Annie?

"Thirty minutes ago, an earthquake broke the dam. The entire arena's been flooded. The girl from District 5 drowned, but the rest of them are managing to stay afloat…for now."

I'm both deeply troubled and yet, there's a spark of hope. We live in a district where the ocean is at our doorstep. Almost every child in District 4 knows how to swim. Before, I wouldn't have thought Annie could outlive the brutish girl from District 1. Now, it's like fate has given her a chance. I pull on some clothes hurriedly and follow Finnick to the surveillance room.

Not many other Victors are there. Cashmere is sitting in her chair, clutching the arms. Gloss is pacing back and forth, not even looking up as Finnick and I enter the room. The girl from District 1 is beginning to panic, frantically swimming around and looking for a point high enough to climb onto. I bite my lip, knowing her efforts are doomed. All she's doing is exhausting herself. She won't make it if she keeps going like this.

I see Annie and refrain from cheering. She's floating on her back with her eyes closed, conserving her energy. The Games might have driven her a bit mad, but she's definitely a smart girl. While District 1 flounders, Annie is completely relaxed. I wonder if she's thinking of home, thinking that maybe she stands a chance after all. I don't dare sit down. I stay standing, my gaze focused on Annie.

The girl from District 1 goes under, legs flailing. She's looking for something. I'm not quite sure what, but minutes later blood rises to the surface and a cannon goes off. I'm not sure whether she hit her head on something and drowned, or got impaled beneath the water's fluid surface. I'm not sure that I want to know the answer. Cashmere closes her eyes in defeat and Gloss spits out curses.

I don't know how long exactly we stay in that dark little surveillance room. Gloss and Cashmere quickly leave after their tribute's death. They're followed about fifteen minutes later by the District 5 mentors when the boy from 5 slips underneath the surface. Now it's only Annie and the girl from District 10. I press my hands together and pray fiercely and silently. I don't know whether I'm praying for her to die and escape the pain Finnick and me, as well as other Victors, share – or if I'm praying for her to live so she can see her family once again.

"Do you think she's going to make it?" I whisper to Finnick. The girl from 10 is weakening, but I notice she's got a knife in her hand and she's swimming towards Annie – oh god. No, it can't end like this, not when she was so close. My hands curl into fists. Annie still has her eyes closed. She doesn't have any idea what's about to happen. I want to scream, but I know she won't hear me, neither of them can. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.

A grin crosses the girl from District 10's face. But then Annie's eyes snap open and she starts swimming, away from the girl with the knife. Her strokes are strong and her legs kick powerfully as she paddles away from her foe. The girl from District 10 struggles to keep up, spluttering out water as she tries to pursue Annie. It becomes clear that she's got the least energy left out of the two of them. Her movements are sluggish, and as Annie continues to evade her, she slowly sinks beneath the surface. It's a few moments before her cannon goes off.

I'm overcome by utter relief. I feel sick to the stomach, but sort of in a good way. It's like all the knots have come undone. Finnick crosses over to me and puts his arms around me, pulling me close and hugging me, resting his chin on my forehead. For a strange, stupid moment I want to kiss him. I don't know why. It doesn't make sense. Finnick is my friend, my protector. But he is not my lover.

"She did it." His voice is hoarse with relief. He kisses the top of my head and draws back, smiling tightly. "She won. Annie won."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I know how Finnick felt now when I won my Games. It's good that she survived, but at the same time it makes me sick knowing that she might have to go through the same pain we do. I just clutch tightly to Finnick and know that we can go home now. For another year, it's over. Relief courses through me, making me weak.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I almost thinking I might be dreaming. It seems like it's been so long since I've been sitting on the shore with sand between my toes. The sun beats down on my skin and it's such a lovely feeling that I could almost forget about the Games, about everything else. I'm back in District 4 where I belong. I close my eyes and surrender to the warmth, before I hear someone crunching through the shells.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Annie lately." It's Elethea, and her voice is somewhat accusing. Is she…jealous? It seems a little weird that my hope rises, that I'm almost willing her to be so that it means she cares for me romantically? I shake the thought away and sit up, well aware that I'm not wearing a shirt. I smirk as her eyes rake over me appreciatively, and then she flushes.

"Checking me out, El?"

"No," she snaps, folding her arms over her chest. "I just didn't know that you were so interested in Annie."

Annie Cresta. She's a sweet girl, although she's gone a bit mad since her Games – although, haven't we all? I instinctively care for her, but it's not the same as my relationship with Elethea. Elethea and I share a bond now, something that can't be broken or replaced. I have feelings for her, despite knowing that I shouldn't. She's become something more than I can ever hope to have for myself.

"We look after our own." I shrug, clambering to my feet. "Are you jealous, Elethea? Is that what this is about?"

I step close to her, so close that I can clearly see the freckles that dot across her nose, each of her long, thick lashes. She looks up at me and her lips part like she's going to say something, but she doesn't. I have a strong urge to kiss her, but I know that I shouldn't. It would be hypocritical, after how I criticized her actions with Gloss. So instead, I turn the heat off myself and onto her.

"Talked to Gloss lately?"

Elethea winces. "I'm sorry, Finnick. You were right. I guess…it was just during the Games and I needed something to keep my mind off everything going on, and Gloss was there."

_He was there._ Her words aren't accusatory, but they should be. I was so busy worrying about Annie's survival that for a while there, I stopped focusing on Elethea. Of course, the dark-haired girl in front of me shouldn't always be my primary concern, but if she felt neglected enough to seek sexual comfort in a guy she doesn't even really like, I suppose that says something about how much I looked after her. I pull her close, and she's small and warm in my arms.

"El. It's not you who should be sorry, it's me. I should have been there for you, I should have stayed when you asked me too. You're just young, and sex isn't the only option…"

"Finnick." She smiles, pressing her hands against my chest. With anyone else it's a slightly suggestive gesture, but with Elethea it's more of a 'shut up, Finnick'. "I get it. I'm just happy we're back in District 4."

_For now._ I can't help but think of the future, no matter how hard I try. Annie's Games are over, but there's still her Victory Tour to worry about. I want to ask Elethea whether she is going to accompany me, but I don't want to stress her out. I'm the one who thinks too much. I don't need to bother her about it. It's a few months yet until Annie's Victory Tour. For now, we can be content with what we have.

"Your mum must be happy to see you again," I comment, determined to bring her mind to happier places. True enough, she smiles at the mention of her family. Family…something I don't have, something that I can't begrudge her.

"Leon's taller than me now," Elethea complains, but her green eyes sparkle with mischief. We both knew it was only a matter of time before he outgrew her. "Looks like he's been eating his greens while I've been gone."

I don't know what makes the moment special, what drives me on. But I can't help it anymore. If she's going to push me away, let her. I just need to know how she feels. I pull her close and kiss her – and it's brilliant, because she kisses back. I feel her stiffen at first, hesitant, and I think she might pull away. Then she kisses back, flinging her arms around my neck, and I realise that maybe she wants this just as much as I do.

Elethea presses against me. She's small, but the soft curves of her body feel nice against me. My hands find her hips and pull her tighter against me, one hand fisting in her dark hair. Elethea's green eyes glitter with impish glee as she draws back momentarily, before her lips work at my neck. I suppress a groan and we tumble to the sand, a mess of tangled limbs and sand-covered skin.

Elethea is beneath me with her dark hair splayed around her. Right now, she doesn't look like a Capitolian goddess or a Victor beauty. She's a mess, with sand in her hair and a flush about her cheeks. But that's what makes her gorgeous. I kiss her again, hands travelling in my desperate need to explore, to make real the forbidden. My hands run over her breasts, ample for a girl of her young age. She giggles and nibbles at my neck.

I start undoing the ties of her bikini. I just want to see her, all of her. But she's embarrassed, cheeks flaring red and small hands finding my wrists, gently pushing my hands away. I draw back and watch as she scrambles to her feet, securing her bikini and completely avoiding eye contact. I can't help but feel like I've done something horribly wrong.

"El?"

Maybe she thinks I'm a pedophile. I'm nineteen and she's not even sixteen yet. Is that what it is? She meets my eyes, and she looks…apologetic. Like she wants this, but she isn't so sure yet. Perhaps she wants it to be special for us, like it wasn't with Gloss.

"It's alright, Fin." Elethea takes a deep breath. "I'm just not…I know there's no one on the beach, but I don't think I want to have sex right now. Like you said, sex isn't the only option."

Damn my words coming back to bite me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you."

"You didn't," Elethea insists, taking my hands in hers and kissing my cheek. "Look, you should come around for dinner later. Mum loves having you around. So does Leon."

But the most important question of all hasn't been answered: _but do you love having me around?_


	19. Femme Fatale

**Chapter Nineteen: Femme Fatale**

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**A/N: I'm sooo pleased about the reviews guys, you're all so damn amazing, thanks so much! Anyway, this chapter is the last before the 71st Hunger Games - which are very important for reasons you'll discover next chapter! Please do review and let me know your thoughts :)**

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_"Between the sheets of sin,_

_I have found my place_

_Heat inside my heart_

_Will continue to rise."_

_- Stigmata, Omega Lithium_

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**Elethea's POV**

I remember the Victory Tour all too well, and as much as I know this is about Annie, I don't know if I can bear visiting all the other districts and the Capitol once again. Call it selfish, but I've already been through that once. Annie's problem have settled over me like a dark cloud – Mags firmly stated that she's in far too frail a state of mind to act as a mentor. I went cold when she said that, because I knew what it meant. I was going back to the Capitol, and creepy men like Hyperion. The thought makes me shudder.

Annie is quiet throughout the Victory Tour. Finnick and I instruct her as best we can, but she just isn't as camera-friendly as Finnick…although, is anyone? When we reach District 1, I'm glad that Gloss isn't as horrible to her as he was to me. Annie shrinks away behind Finnick and I have to force myself not to be jealous of how dependent she is on him, on how much attention she's been shown by him. She's closer to his age than me, which also makes me wary. What if he decides that I'm just a child, and that Annie's the one he wants?

The train pulls in to the Capitol and I fidget uncomfortably with my forest-green dress. Even Finnick and I have to be dressed up nicely. Annie sits across from us in a scarlet skirt and white blouse, and I can't help but think that she looks attractive. She's a pretty girl. That realisation makes me turn to ice, because I know what the Capitol does to pretty girls. I won't let them hurt Annie. Protectiveness surges through me, and I think I start to understand how Finnick feels about his tributes…about me.

The first time I came to the Capitol, I was fourteen years old, and a child in every way. Now I'm almost sixteen and I feel so old and weary, like Panem itself is weighing down upon my shoulders. I'm definitely not a child anymore. I glance across at Finnick, whose bottles of beer sit in a row across the coffee table. I don't think he's drunk, but he's getting there. The thought of the Capitol doesn't appeal to him either.

"Remember, Annie," I turn my attention upon my wide-eyed protégé. "All you have to do is smile. Convince them you're happy to be here."

"I don't know whether I can do that," Annie murmurs, hunching over and drawing her knees to her chest. I can see why she's afraid and I walk over to kneel beside her, wrapping my arms around her. A family, that's what we are. The District 4 Victors. A family consisting of a broken boy, a mad girl…and me. What am I? It's a question I don't know the answer to, and I don't want to strive to find one.

"Come on," Finnick states abruptly as the train hisses to a halt. I take Annie's hand and haul her to her feet. It's almost funny in a way, that I'm younger and smaller and yet she relies on me for help. I know that I can't let her down. I promise myself that I won't fail her like I failed Dom.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

The celebration is in full swing, and so of course I'm sourer than ever. I make small talk and smile flirtatiously at Capitol ladies, but it's all an empty act. I just want to be back in District 4 – although I know even that is only until the 71st Hunger Games begin, and the vicious cycle starts over once again. Annie is nervous and looks out of place, following me around like a shadow. Elethea is more independent, socializing with various Capitolians. I can't help but follow her with my eyes.

"Finnick, why don't you introduce me?" It's Seneca Crane, who has replaced Hyperion Dormer as Head Gamemaker. Of course Hyperion will still be on the panel, but it seems like Snow isn't pleased by the dam breaking during the 70th Hunger Games. Seneca is hardly better, a man with bright eyes and a strange beard. "Annie, isn't it?"

"Annie Cresta," I confirm when she remains silent. I try and maintain a pleasant façade, but I don't like Gamemakers as a habit. They're the ones who endeavour to make our life hell, so they don't deserve to be well-liked. I glance at Elethea to see that Hyperion has approached her, which doesn't surprise me in the least. There's a sick feeling in my stomach as he reaches out to her and she flinches away.

"Why don't you go get a drink?" I turn my attention upon Annie, pointing her in Elethea's direction. "Just over there, where El is. I'll be over in a minute."

"She's a pretty girl," Seneca states as he watches Annie leave. "Not quite as stunning as your other little friend, but she's got a more natural beauty about her. Some men like that."

My eyes narrow, because I know exactly what Seneca is implying. There's no way that I'm going to let Annie get involved with these monsters. She's like an innocent lamb, and they're the wolves just waiting for a bite. She's so fragile of mind that I'm sure it would break her if she went through prostitution like I did.

"No," I say flatly, folding my arms over my chest. "She's too delicate. You won't use her like that."

Seneca merely shrugs. "Demands come at a price, Finnick. You of all people should know that."

I don't like what he's implying. "What's your price, then? What will it take to keep you away from Annie? Whatever it is, I'll gladly pay it."

I care about both of them fiercely, Annie and Elethea. Annie is like my little sister, someone helpless who needs to be protected, and I'm the only one to do it. Elethea…well, I'm almost sure that I love her. I want to hold her in my arms and stop anyone from hurting her, but I just don't know if she'll let me.

"Who says you'll be the one paying?" Seneca raises an eyebrow and moves off through the crowd, leaving me completely confused. I shake my head and glance around for another beer. I think I'm going to need as many as I can get down.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I pull my clothes on in silence, wishing that it was completely dark. As usual, I feel ashamed of myself, a sick guilt wrenching at my insides. Seneca Crane strides over to the window to look down at the streets of Panem. At least he isn't as rough as Hyperion. I fix my hair as best I can and glance across at him, eyes narrowing. If he doesn't keep his promise, then I know I'll hate myself for this…and hate him even more. I fold my arms around myself and walk over to him.

"So I have your word that Annie won't be used?" I demand of him, wanting more power than I have. She's so fragile that I know it would break her. It's bad enough Finnick and I have to go through it, but I can't let them hurt Annie. "She's fairly mad, Seneca. No one would want to sleep with a mad girl."

"He doesn't know, does he?" Seneca turns on me, his eyes boring into me and his lips quirking the hint of a smile. "Finnick. He doesn't know that you're a courtesan too."

"No," I admit reluctantly. Cold fear courses through me, but I don't want to beg Seneca. I've already asked enough of him, I won't ask him to keep my secret. It's chilly in his room and I rub my arms, which are breaking out in goosebumps. Seneca put his hands on my hips and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. It's a revolting imitation of a tender gesture and I resist the urge to wrench away.

"Don't worry, Elethea. I won't tell him."  
I know better than to trust him. I wouldn't trust Seneca, or any other Capitolian, for a second. He releases me and I suck in a deep breath, trying not to sound too relieved. I suppose I should be lucky that he doesn't have a horribly violent side like Hyperion, but right now I'm not feeling too fortunate at all. Tugging on the last of my clothes, I murmur a goodbye and wander out of the room Seneca hired back down to the party.

"Elethea?" Annie hurries over, and she sounds worried. I can't see any sign of Finnick. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you."

I felt slightly guilty, but I've been upstairs protecting Annie in the only way I know how. I offer her a brief smile as the cogs turn in my head, desperately trying to come up with a believable lie.

"I was just in the bathroom," I explain, raking a hand through my dark hair and praying it doesn't look a mess. "I didn't feel so well."

Annie's eyes narrow. "No, you weren't. You were with Seneca Crane. What were you doing with him?"

Damn this girl and how smart she is. I dither, trying to figure out how I'm going to get my way out of this one. Annie lets me suffer for a few moments, before she catches my arm and tugs me aside, eyes wide and serious.

"I know, Elethea. It's okay. I know about what you do for the Capitol."

Now I really do feel sick. How can Annie possibly know? Has Hyperion or one of the others said something to her? I take a deep breath and try to ignore the fact that I feel like I'm drowning and can't break the surface. Has Annie told Finnick? Is that why he isn't here, because he can't face me?

"How…?"

"I heard some of them talking about it," Annie admits, "Well, not you in particular. But just Victors who are pushed into prostitution. When I saw you leave with Seneca…well, I knew what was happening."

"Where's Finnick?" I demand, glancing wildly around. I know I'm not going to find him, but I search in vain.

"He's out for the night," Annie replies, and she must see the desperation in my eyes because she stops and puts a comforting arm around my shoulders. "It's okay. I don't think he knows about you. He left before they were all talking about it."

I feel so relieved, and I can't help but be grateful for Annie. Finally, there's someone other than Gloss and Cashmere to talk to about this. I wouldn't have wanted Annie to find out, but fate really doesn't tend to work out in our favour. As others in the district would surely say: _the odds are never in our favour._

"You have to play up any problems you have," I say, delicately referring to her slight madness, "Annie. I don't want them to use you like they use me. You have to pretend that you're completely crazy and then no man will want to sleep with you."

Annie nods, and I hope that my fervent words haven't scared her. Nibbling at my lip, I know that if I can't find Finnick, I have to find some other form of solace. I draw away from Annie and make my way over towards the drink table. I don't care that I'm not yet sixteen. I need something strong to wash the pain away.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I wake up to the sound of someone vomiting in the bathroom. I groan and pull the pillow over my head, not wanting to deal with it. Sometimes I get tired of having to take care of people, to act like I'm flirtatious and charming when all I want to do is lock myself away. Sighing heavily, I push myself to my feet. My head throbs like the beat of a drum and I know that I've got a hangover – but whoever is in the bathroom has definitely got it worse.

I stumble into the bathroom to find Elethea curled over the toilet, her small frame wracked with sobs. I realise that she must have had a few drinks last night, and is now experiencing her first hangover. It's a shit feeling, which is why I don't understand why people like Haymitch can drink all the time. It drowns the sorrow, but the next morning, you're left regretting it.

"How much did you have?" I ask, kneeling down beside her. The smell of vomit makes me want to retch, but I have to be the stronger one. It's the way things have always been. I hold her hair back and rub my hand up and down her spine as she throws up again, clutching at the sides of the toilet.

"I don't remember," Elethea replies tearfully, "Too much."

I don't know what drove her to this, but I think any Victor in their right mind would have wanted to escape the celebration last night. I want to console her and tell her that we're going home soon, but that's nothing to look forward to. The 71st Hunger Games will start soon…and we'll just have to go through the torment of watching tributes die again. We've had two District 4 Victors in a row. I know we can't be fortunate enough to have a third.


	20. Heart With A Gaping Hole

**Chapter Twenty: Heart With A Gaping Hole**

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**A/N: So, the 71st Hunger Games! You'll see why these Games are so important, both for Finnick and for Elethea. I've also added in the POV of Leon, Elethea's younger brother...for reasons you will soon discover ;) Please review as always! You've been amazing so far and it'll be great to hear what you think of this latest plot twist!**

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_"Dig up her bones, but leave the soul alone_

_Boy with a broken soul, heart with a gaping hole."_

_- Bones, MSMR_

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I wasn't looking forward to mentoring again, especially as we were always certain to fail. I glance across at Elethea as she joins me on the stage, watching the potential tributes assembling. She'd been hoping for a respite in mentoring, but Annie's condition meant that Elethea would be forced to keep on going…just like me.

I can't help but examine her thoroughly. She's no longer the sweet-faced little girl from District 4 who won the 69th Hunger Games. It's only been two years, but Elethea has grown up into a young woman now, a dark-haired beauty of sixteen. I look away before she can catching me staring at her. The curious, innocent child has been obliterated. She's now cold and hard, and trains tributes with as much efficiency and brutal honesty as she can muster.

"And now for the girls," Jehovah announces after the boring annual speech on the history of the Hunger Games, on why we deserve such punishment. He moves across to grab a slip of paper, but there's already movement in the crowd. A girl with sandy blonde hair steps out from the sixteen-year-olds section, her expression hungrily determined.

"I volunteer."

She approaches the stage and I assess her. She is tall and lithe, a very different build to Elethea. She has hazel eyes and is fairly attractive, although not pretty enough to gain sponsors purely on beauty alone. The blonde girl turns and glances at Elethea and her mouth twists with disdain. I can guess why – even though it's been two years since Elethea killed Dom in the arena, many of our district still hold his death against her.

"What is your name?" Jehovah inquires.

The girl lifts her chin proudly. "Kaya Valance."

Jehovah nods and immediately walks over to the boys' bowl. Kaya threw Elethea one last contemptuous glance, before looking dead ahead of her. I can only hope that the boy isn't a sleaze this year. I still remember last year's, his decapitation, blood spraying everywhere…

"I volunteer."

The thirteen-year-olds section parts like the Red Sea and the next thing I know, Elethea has jumped up from her chair and she's screaming and screaming. There is no doubting who the dark-haired striding proudly up to the stage is. I catch Elethea by the waist and haul her back, trying to soothe her even as she struggles against me.

"Name?" Jehovah inquires, looking quite taken aback at Elethea's sudden outburst. Perhaps he doesn't see the resemblance. Kaya looks like she doesn't know whether to laugh or show pity.

"Leon." The boy clenches his jaw, eyes glittering with determination. "Medalleon Ambrose."

* * *

**Leon's POV **

I sit a little away from Kaya, mainly because I don't trust her. She's the same age as my sister, but she's different in every way. Sharp, cold, uninviting. The way she sneers at Elethea irritates me, as does her negative attitude towards me. I know that I'm young, only thirteen years old. But I'm not a kid anymore. At nearly 5'8, I'm a good few inches taller than my sister…although that's not really an achievement.

I know she's angry at me, so angry. I have to admit that I'm a bit afraid. Most of the tributes will be older than me, certainly all of the Careers. Elethea was considered a baby when she volunteered, and she was still a year older than me. But I'm bigger than she was, and stronger too. I stand a chance. But that's not the only thing driving me, and it's certainly not what caused me to volunteer.

Ever since her victory, Elethea has been…different. Mum has noticed it too. She's quieter, and when she comes back from the Capitol, she's like a ghost. Maybe she thinks I don't hear her crying out in her sleep, but I want to know what's still haunting her. The Games are over and done with. So what exactly gives Elethea reason to be so scared? I know I'm the younger sibling, but we've always been protecting each other. It's my turn to try and protect her now, in the only way I can.

"So, sis." I pop a biscuit into my mouth and start chewing loudly, trying to stay casual. "What do we have to do to survive in the arena?"

"That's it." It's the first thing I've said to her since we got on the train, but Elethea pushes herself to her feet like she's had enough. Her green eyes spark with anger and she hauls me to my feet with more strength than I knew she even possessed. "We need to have a serious chat, little brother."

She tugs me out of the compartment and I'm about to make a sarcastic comment when she strikes me hard across the face. I touch my cheek in shock, not just because the blow actually hurt, but mainly because Elethea has never hit me before, not seriously. Her entire face is contorted with livid rage, and I know it's because of my decision to volunteer. Why can she judge me? She made the exact same choice.

"What is your problem?" I demand of her angrily.

"My problem?" Elethea is just as furious, shoving me hard against the wall. Although I'm a few inches taller than her, she's older and that shines through in her actions. She grits her teeth together hard. "My problem is that my brother voluntarily condemned himself to die!"

"What makes you so sure I will?" I snap back at her, fury bubbling inside of me. She was helpless during her Games – I know better than to bring up Dom, because I know how much that hurts her, but it's only thanks to her that she's alive. I was too young at eleven to fully understand what Romulus was doing, but I get it now. He was going to rape her, and he would have killed her afterwards. If not for Dom, Elethea would be dead.

"Because you're just like me," Elethea states grimly, drawing back and planting her hands on her hips. "Completely arrogant. You think you're infallible. You know what? You're not. Stupid as it sounds, I only survived because I was weak at the start. Because people thought I needed to be protected. So remember that before you decide to shelter an ally. They could turn out to be the Victor."

"I want to see the truth." I clench my jaw. It was always coming, this point in the conversation – where we came to the true reason I volunteered. "I see you hurting, and I don't know why. You're my sister, but you don't _talk_ to me. You don't even talk to Mum. The only person you actually talk to is Finnick."

She averts her eyes at the mention of his name. No matter how much I might have idolised Finnick before, I can't help but hold a grudge against him now. If something or someone is hurting Elethea, shouldn't he be stopping it? I can't possibly like a young man who has condemned my sister to what seems to be a living hell. Why does she have to keep going back to a place that haunts her? Why couldn't it be Annie instead?

"It's something you can't hope to understand, Leon." Elethea's voice becomes grim and suddenly I look into her green eyes and she looks _old_, years older than sixteen. "I hope you never have to understand."

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

"So, you would do anything to protect your little brother." Hyperion Dormer sits across from me with a glass of white wine and I can tell that he's loving this. The meeting is a little different from our usual ones, in that I was the one who requested it, and it doesn't involve sex at all…yet. I watch him closely, coldly. "How adorable. How old is he, thirteen?"

"His age doesn't concern you," I reply icily. I'm no longer the girl who shrinks away from the touch of a man. It's occurred too often now, and I'm horribly used to it. Hyperion always makes me cringe, but I force myself to be firm and decisive. Leon's life may depend on it. I take a deep sip from my own glass of white wine, as though it will possibly calm my nerves. "All I want is for you to sponsor him."

"It will come at a price," Hyperion warns, like I wasn't already aware of that. I'm possibly numb to the cost of my brother's life. I wouldn't care what Hyperion asked me to do, as long as he keeps his end of the bargain. I can't lose Leon, not after everything else. Some small part of me wants him to die, to end the real suffering before it can begin…but he's my _brother_. I'm so conflicted.

"And what price would that be?"

"You will only visit me during these Games." Hyperion sounds almost gleeful. He knows that if I want Leon to live, all I can do is agree no matter the terms. He could have asked me to slit Finnick's throat and I would have obliged if it meant the certainty of Leon's Victory. "No other men. Do you understand?"

"Don't speak to me like I'm a child." I press my lips together tersely. Perhaps the wine is making me too confident, or maybe I've just found my voice. "I'll do it."

"Anything for your brother?" Hyperion chuckles, his eyes glittering with a darkness that I don't want to understand.

"Anything," I reply flatly, sculling the last of my wine.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I know that Elethea is going through a difficult time, but it's not until after the chariots that I approach her. Sure, I had to sort out an argument between Kaya and Leon first. The two of them really don't get along, mainly because Kaya is so dominating and Leon refuses to play the role of the meek district partner. He always flexes his hands, like he's considering curling them into fists and punching her.

"El?" I tentatively open the door, preparing myself for the worst. I think that maybe she'll be curled up on the bed, or crying on the floor. After all, this is her younger brother we're talking about. Instead she's just reading a book, looking up calmly as I enter. Her peaceful demeanour is remarkable considering the circumstances. "I just came to see if you're alright."

"Sure," Elethea replies distractedly, her attention too focused on whatever it is she's reading.

I remove the book from her hands. I don't want her to bottle her emotions up. I prefer the Elethea who is more than comfortable to fist her little hands in my shirt and cry into my chest. I don't want this emotionless girl before me, this blank slate who pretends that she doesn't care. That isn't the Elethea Ambrose I know and love.

"One of those tributes is your brother," I remind her.

She doesn't even flinch. "I know, Finnick. Which is why I need him prepared. Both of them, really. I need them performing at peak level. What have we seen from the other districts?"

"Nothing too special." I shrug, but I recall the tributes from 1 and 2. They remind me a lot of the tributes during Elethea's Games – big and strong. Although if they lack intelligence, that's definitely to our advantage. But I don't want to worry Elethea. She just needs to focus on keeping our tributes in line, not how they'll size up compared to the others. "We'll find some sponsors, and then…"

"No," Elethea replies so quickly that it's impossible to not think something is up. She refuses to meet my eyes, clearly realising she's given something away. I frown at that, because why would Elethea refuse to find sponsors for her own brother? My mind is not liking the answers and I take her hand in mine. She pulls her fingers from my grasp, but I'm not giving up.

"Elethea," I say quietly, "What did you do?"

Her green eyes are burning with unshed tears. "I sold my soul."

* * *

**Leon's POV**

I've always been mobile in the night. Mum says that when I was little, I used to sleepwalk around the place and tell them I was going out for a swim. So when I get thirsty, it's nothing special for me to go out looking for whatever. What I don't expect at midnight is for Elethea is to be sitting on the couch in the lamplight with her knees curled to her chest. I frown and pad over to her, causing her to jump and quickly wipe away tears. But it's too late, the damage is done. I've already seen.

"El?" I sit beside her as she turns her face.

"Go away."

"Why are you crying?" I ask, putting my arm around her shoulders. Despite the fact that we fight, we're still siblings. When the world turns its back on us, we're there for each other, because we have to be. I notice a mark on her neck, although I can't quite make it out in the dim light. "Hold on a sec…what's on your neck?"

"Nothing," Elethea snaps, pushing me away from her. There are tears in her eyes and I know that something is very, very wrong. "Go back to bed, it's none of your business."

"Is that a bite mark?" I ask incredulously as I start to make it out. It is. It looks like someone's dug their teeth into my sister's neck. I add up that and the fact that she's curled up out here alone, and everything starts to become horribly clear. "Elethea…El, were you raped?"

"No!" she exclaims, before lowering her voice to ensure she doesn't wake the others, "Leon, it's something that you won't understand. Please, just go to bed."

"Not until you explain this to me." I fold my arms, resolute. There's a murderous feeling rising inside me. I want to hurt someone, badly. I want to hurt whoever did this to my sister. No one deserves this kind of misery, especially not Elethea. She's already been through enough. "I'll even go wake Finnick up and see if he knows."

"Leon!" Elethea hisses, her eyes widening. I realise then that whatever is happening, I'm the only one that knows about it. Maybe the puzzle pieces are adding up. Elethea comes to District 4 like a ghost. She's hurting inside, but Finnick seems not to know about it. All I can think of is that a man is haunting my sister, and her former mentor is clueless. "No. Don't…just, don't involve Finnick, okay? Look, I'll tell you, but you have to _promise_ me that this staysbetween us."

"I promise," I say solemnly, realising how serious this is. If Elethea makes me promise not to say something, then it's bad. If it's bad, then I'll definitely want to say something.

"Soon after I turned fifteen…" Elethea bites her lip. "I was sold out to Capitol men. As a courtesan."

I might only be thirteen, but I know what a courtesan is. So basically, the Capitol is passing Elethea around? She's a prostitute? She catches my astonished stare and immediately looks like she hates herself.

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you."

"I'm not judging you!" I say quickly, holding up my hands. "It's just…shit, El, why did you agree to it? They're sick men with sick minds. Why did you say yes?"

"Because they would have killed you otherwise." Elethea pushes herself to her feet, and I immediately realise what I've done. My volunteering for the Games has undone everything that Elethea suffered for…and I feel guiltier than ever.


	21. Insanity Is All Around Us

**Chapter Twenty-One: Insanity Is All Around Us**

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**A/N: Another update already! Honestly, your reviews really do motivate me. If I haven't said it enough already: you lot continue to be a bunch of amazing reviewers, followers and favouriters. Please keep up the good work! It's always good to know that my writing is appreciated.**

**All you Finnick/Elethea fans are going to be saying FINALLY! by the end of this chapter...but bear in mind that their actions will have consequences!**

* * *

_"Strip me, tear me apart_

_Break me, right from the start_

_Use me, fill in a hole_

_Rip me, lose your control."_

_- Strip Me, Omega Lithium_

* * *

**Leon's POV **

The better I do in training, the less Kaya likes me – although, it's to be expected. But after what I found out from Elethea, my heart has hardened towards them all, Capitolians and fellow tributes alike. So I come with a plan, a deadly one. To make sure it works, first of all I have to befriend the tributes from Districts 1 and 2. Maybe once upon a time, when young tributes never won the Games, they might have rejected me. But by the 71st Hunger Games, things have changed.

"Leon Ambrose." I confidently hold out my hand for the boy from 1 to shake. He's a big guy, easily over six feet. I'm five foot eight and he towers over me, but he grasps my hand firmly. I don't flinch even as he tries to crush my knuckles. He's probably fifteen or sixteen and he inclines his head.

"Macklin Moro."

Okay, so it's not the stupidest District 1 name in history. I turn my attention upon his district partner. Unlike most District 1 girls who are slim and pretty, she's brutish and muscular for a girl. She's older than him, probably about eighteen. She stares at me with contempt in her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.

"Who's this runt?"

"Play nice, Umbriella," Macklin sighs. "His name's Leon."

Umbriella? Now that's a name that nearly has me laughing. These two clearly aren't your traditional Careers. Umbriella stares hard at me with her jaw clenched, daring me to mock her name. Beside me, Kaya openly smirks, tossing back her hair. She's not afraid of what anyone thinks of her. Neither am I, but I'm trying to earn support here.

"Everyone calls me Brie."

I take this as acceptance. The pair from District 2 have wandered over, clearly wary at seeing the rest of us bonding. The girl saunters over, with a big smile and a huge mass of ringlets. She's got a pixie-like figure, despite being at least sixteen.

"I'm Elsa," she says brightly, nudging the surly boy beside her. Surprisingly, he's only a year or two older than me, and probably around the same height. "This grump is Wulf."

"Wait, Leon Ambrose?" Macklin questions, as though he only just remembers my name. A grin spreads across his face. "Is your sister Elethea, the girl who won the 69th Hunger Games?"

I nod hesitantly, although I could have seen this question coming. How could anyone fail to establish a connection? Elethea and I look alike, and there can't be too many Ambroses in District 4.

"She's pretty hot," Macklin comments, glancing around and smiling smugly at his fellow Careers. "Reckon she'd go a round with me before the arena?"

Maybe Macklin doesn't know about Elethea's occupation, or maybe he does. I can't be certain, but my blood boils with fury, rising right to the surface and threatening to make me explode. I won't let this jumped-up dickhead from 1 talk about my sister like that, but I also can't afford to make enemies. He's now a part of my plan, although he doesn't know it.

"Shut up," I snap at him.

"Oh yeah, sorry." Macklin turns his attention back on me. "Forgot you were only thirteen. I won't talk like that in front of you anymore."

I stalk over to the rack of spears and heft one up. It weighs a considerable amount and by the way the other Careers have fallen quiet, they wonder whether I can do it. The muscles in my arm burn, but I've trained since I was ten. I know how to do this. I know how to win. I hurl the spear and it strikes the target dead centre, quivering slightly. I whirl around to face them, spreading my arms wide.

"So? Does a thirteen-year-old make the cut?"

Elsa claps her hands and laughs, and even Wulf is smiling slightly. In fact, it's only Kaya that's looking sour now, and I can't help but offer her a wink. If she's going to be pissed because I'm better than she is, so be it.

"You definitely do," Macklin states, nodding decisively as if his word is law.

I grin and pick up another spear, narrowing my eyes as I focus on the target. This time, I imagine it's Macklin's heart.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

"I looked like a complete idiot today," Kaya snaps as she and Leon cool down from training. She's leaning against the bench sipping a cup of water. I can't help but think she's like a cat. She has slanted features, she moves with an elegant grace I can't hope to achieve. Sometimes when she talks, it's like a low purr. She glowers livid rage at my brother, but I was watching. I know why Kaya's angry, and it's not Leon's fault.

I shrug. "Maybe you should try and make some friends yourself instead of relying on Leon to push alliances."

Kaya laughs lowly. "Oh, but wasn't that the same with Dom? He was the one who made friends while you just acted like a brat. Don't think I've forgotten your Games."

Maybe she thinks that talking about Dom is going to get me all riled up, but I've learned to control the feelings that pop up when my district partner's name is mentioned. I take a deep, calming breath and count to five. I'm not going to let some know-it-all like Kaya push me into a position where I lose control.

"That's right, Kaya. But we're meant to be learning from our mistakes, not repeating them. So if you want to last five minutes in that arena, you have to put in the effort as well."

"What's going on?" Finnick enters the room and glances around, clearly sensing the tension immediately. I fold my arms and let Kaya answer, which she does by slamming her cup down on the bench and jerking a finger in my direction.

"Elethea is being a bitch, as usual."

"I'm giving her advice and she's not liking it, as usual," I reply wryly, leaving Finnick to make up his own mind.

Kaya glowers at me. "Giving me advice? For all I know, you could be _younger _than me. I bet you're only intending to sponsor Leon, isn't that right? Make sure your precious brother wins, but it doesn't matter if I die out there."

"That's not true, Kaya," I say harshly, although I do feel guilty that there is an element of truth to her words. I made a special deal with Hyperion, but that doesn't mean I won't look for other sponsors for Kaya. Some are more kind than others, and don't require me to sell my body to get items for my tributes.

I glance at Finnick, but there's no support coming from him. I'm instantly angry and hurt. Does he believe what Kaya is saying as well? Does he really think I want my brother to win so badly that I'm going to stack the odds high and neglect our other tribute? Finnick folds his arms, but still says nothing. I'm seething in anger and I whirl around, looking to Leon. I know that he, at least, will back me up.

"Shut up, Kaya," Leon hisses, glowering at her, "What the hell do you know about being a mentor?"

Kaya scoffs. "More than your sister, obviously."

"Finnick." I stare across at him, narrowing my eyes. Kaya is abusing me and he's just standing here watching. What is it? Why isn't he saying anything in my defense? I can't help but feel bitter towards him. "Can we talk in private?"

"Alright." Finnick shrugs, leading the way into his room. Taking one last glance at Kaya and Leon – who have taken their argument to the lounge – I follow Finnick into his room, closing the door shut behind me.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

"What is your problem with me?" Elethea demands the moment she enters my room. She plants her hands on her hips and her green eyes are fierce. Damn, I knew this was coming. This is what I get for trying not to take sides. I know that if I agree with Elethea, Kaya will only think that's one more person against her. I don't want to play gang up on the least liked tribute, because that's unprofessional.

"I don't have a problem with you, El," I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But I'm not about to go bagging Kaya out."

"Bagging her out?" Elethea says furiously, advancing on me. "I'm not asking you to bag out anyone, I just want some support! We're meant to work as a unit, and we're not doing that if we're divided."

"You're being overdramatic," I tell her with a heavy sigh. She feels like I'm turning on her, but it's the furthest thing from it. I'm simply trying to let her defend herself. This is something between her and Kaya, something I don't feel I have the right to intervene in.

Elethea's eyes harden and she grips me by the shoulders, shoving me back against the wall. For a moment I think she might hit me, but then she's kissing me hard, and it's pleasantly surprising, so much so that I find myself kissing back. She doesn't hate me. In fact, I'm not sure that Elethea knows exactly what she feels. I grab her arms and spin us so that she's the one pressed against the wall.

For a moment she gasps and tenses, and I think I've done something wrong and I loosen my grip. But then she's kissing me again, arms coiling tight around my neck and pulling me in close, and it's like I can't resist. I hoist her up so that she's closer to my height, and she responds eagerly by wrapping her legs around my waist. I grip under her thighs to hold her up, my lips working down her neck as she tilts her head backwards in delight.

"Elethea," I whisper hoarsely, because I know by the wild pounding of my heart that if we keep going, I won't be able to stop. "Elethea, I want you. Tell me to stop, now."

I put her down, giving her the opportunity to brush past me and leave. Instead she pushes me onto the bed and clambers on top of me, her chest pressed against mine. There's lust in her green eyes and I know for certain that she wants this too. Why deny it if it's what we both want?

"I don't want you to stop," Elethea murmurs, pulling her shirt over her head and quickly getting rid of mine as well. I sit up, dragging her into my lap and planting kisses all over her collarbone and chest. Her fingers wind into my hair and she grinds her hips against mine, eliciting a low groan from me. The little minx definitely knows how to turn me on. I roll us so that she's lying beneath me, and I reach behind her to undo her bra.

I begin fumbling around in the drawer beside my bed for a condom, but Elethea catches my wrist and raises her eyebrows.

"What are you doing?"

"Condom," I say huskily.

Elethea shakes her head vigorously. "Don't waste your time looking for one. I'm on birth control anyway."

She flings the bra across the room and takes my face in her hands, kissing me again. She tastes so sweet it's like heaven. My mouth descends on her breasts and she becomes putty in my hands, wriggling and gasping beneath me. Her small fingers trace down my arms, my chest…and undo the zip on my pants. I examine her closely, because even though there's no doubt that I've got an erection and I want her badly, I want to make sure she's 100% willing.

"Are you sure?" I ask her.

"I've never been more so," Elethea replies breathlessly, lifting her hips and shimmying out of her jeans and undies. She lies beneath me, completely naked and with her green eyes shining. I kick off my pants and press close against her, gently pushing into her as her eyes flutter closed. My lips find purchase on her neck once more, and she starts to moan as I move my hips. Her legs wrap around my waist and I run a hand through her hair and kiss her again.

It's like anything I've ever imagined, only a thousand times better. Elethea clings to me like her life depends on it, tilting her head back and letting me take control. Her nails dig into my arms and although it stings a little, I like it at the same time. She's so beautiful, and as she moans in pleasure at my movements, rocking her hips against mine, it's amazing to know that I'm the one coaxing such noises from her.

"Finnick," she whispers over and over again, "Finnick."

"Oh god." I bury my face in her neck as I feel myself starting to lose control, my thrusts becoming harder and faster. I know that I'm about to unwind completely. Her fingernails rake down my back. "Fuck. Elethea…"

Elethea's dark hair is splayed across my pillows and she's clinging to me so tightly that I know she's about to climax too. I wasn't sure, because it doesn't always happen with girls. But she cries out and shivers and I know for sure. I cling to her tightly and groan loudly as I reach my own, burying my face in her breasts and panting as I collapse on top of her. She strokes my sweat-lank hair rhythmically.

I pull out and flop beside her, pulling her to me. She snuggles close, resting her head against my chest. It was amazing, and I shouldn't want to do it again, but I do. Not now…no, I'm content with just holding the sweet dark-haired girl who's in my arms. I kiss the top of Elethea's head and judging by the lazy smile on her face, she's happy too.

"I love you," I say, before immediately tensing up and wondering whether I've said the wrong thing. Shit, that's one thing you're not meant to say after sex…but I really do love her. Sex was just something that happened, my feelings for her are what's real. But she looks up at me and kisses my cheek softly.

"I love you too, Fin."


	22. Bruised And Broke Her

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Bruised And Broke Her**

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**A/N: Okay. So I'm kinda really worried about what you guys will think of this chapter. There is some non-con and violence, although it isn't really explicit. Some terrible things are going to happen this chapter, just warning you. You're probably gonna hate me for this. Please do review though, even if it's just to rant at me.**

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_"That night he caged her, bruised and broke her_

_He struggled closer, then he stole her_

_Violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain_

_Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams."_

_- Monster, Meg & Dia_

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**Leon's POV**

It's the morning the Games begin, and Elethea and Finnick are doing everything they can to prepare me. Finnick does this with the calm precision expected of a mentor – but Elethea is frantic, growing more and more stressed as my hour of departure draws closer. Kaya is oddly silent, staring all around her with sullen eyes. She's too proud to cry, but she feels incredibly isolated.

"Alright." Elethea takes a deep breath, but there are tears glittering in her green eyes. "Both of you are ready. Your stylists are going to take you from here and you'll be prepared for what's to come, outfitted…"

"Elethea." I take my sister by the shoulders to silence her. "Sis, stop talking."

She bursts into tears and throws her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder and clutching onto me so tight I almost can't breathe. But now the finality of it all hits me like a train, so hard that I think I might hyperventilate. I might never see any of it again. Not Elethea, not Mum, not District 4. The thought of that makes me even more determined. I hold my big sister tight and fiercely promise myself that I'll do whatever it takes to come home. Even if it means losing Medalleon Ambrose in the process.

"I'll win this," I swear to Elethea, although neither of us can be certain of that. "I will, I'll be just like you."

Elethea draws back and offers me a watery smile, wiping at her eyes. Finnick put a hand on her arm in some form of silent comfort and offers me an approving nod. My heart races with hope. He thinks that I can do it, too. They believe in me! That thought remains etched into my brain the entire way to our hovercraft flight to our destination. Kaya grows more and more grim, but that's not going to do her any good in the arena.

My stylist shoves me hurriedly into a waterproof suit along with boots. The basic clothing gives no indication of what the arena might be and I step onto the plate and take a deep breath as I'm slowly pushed up towards the surface. The anticipation alone could just about kill me. But I think fiercely of home and how much I want to go back to it that I force my way past the panic and take in my surroundings.

All around me are…ruins. It looks like some kind of old castle, centuries or even millennia old. All of us are positioned in the banquet hall, and the Cornucopia is a multiple-tiered huge table with a hearth burning bright underneath it. I've never quite seen an arena like this one before and I swallow hard. A castle. Well…that's new. Something catches the light and I notice the silver spear and I grin. Mine.

As we wait the painful minute for the gong to go off, my eyes meet Kaya's. She's standing directly across from me and a savage smile crosses her lips. She draws a finger across her throat and mouths something. _You're dead._ Except what Kaya doesn't know is I'm not the innocent little thirteen-year-old she takes me for. I have a plan, and it involves shedding blood…lots of blood. It's a plan called winning.

The gong goes off and then we're all scrambling for the Cornucopia. I don't waste time looking for allies or enemies. My attention is completely focused on the spear. Some of the faster, smaller tributes reach the Cornucopia first – not that they last long. Macklin shoves the girl from District 3 and she falls into the burning hearth below. Her agonised screams rip through the banquet hall as she twists in the flames, the smell of her flesh burning reaching my nostrils and making me feel like I'm going to be sick.

I haul myself and grab the spear. Standing on the top tier like he's some kind of god, Macklin laughs as the girl from District 3 goes still. Clenching my jaw, I level my spear and hurl it – and he staggers back in complete shock. The spear's gone right through him and he stares at me with betrayal in his eyes, coughing up blood as he begins to succumb to his wounds. The other Careers have stopped. They're watching Macklin. They're watching me. I smile.

"What have you done?!" Kaya storms across from her first kill, the boy from District 5. Her face is bloodied and her teeth are bared. "What the _fuck_ have you done, Leon?!"

Macklin collapses against the table, stilling. I wrench the spear from his body, ignoring the horrible squelching that comes with the action. I whirl around and face Kaya as she draws her sword, marching across and hauling herself up onto the first tier. I know now that my plan is beginning to work. _Dispose of the imminent threats as soon as you can._

"What I was intending to do all along," I tell her coldly, before I shove my spear into her throat. Kaya's eyes widen and she makes a noise, a sort of gurgling that was probably meant to be a scream. I don't even flinch as I yank the spear free and she falls to her knees. Blood pours from her throat. The metallic smell of it is heavy on the air. She tries to support herself, glaring murder up at me, but with all that blood rushing out, there's no chance she's going to last. Sure enough, she gives a soft groan before she falls against the tier, motionless.

I've done it, then. I've become a murderer. But I don't feel remorse. I don't even feel elation. I just feel a sort of…coldness. I keep a firm hold on my spear and jump down from the Cornucopia. There's no denying that I'm on my own now. The Careers will hunt me down like rabid dogs, but there is always the chance to make new allies. I sprint from the banquet hall like the devil himself is on my heels, and I don't once look back.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I didn't think that anything Leon did in the Games would surprise me, but his actions at the Cornucopia – they were shocking. Never did I think I'd see the day where my little brother would cut down his own district partner in cold blood, after having killed another Career unprovoked. I like to think that he's doing what he has to in order to survive, but I know there's more to it than that. Leon is channeling all his hatred and vengeance into the kills, and it's not good for him at all.

I push open the door to Hyperion's room and try to make myself relax, although I know it's impossible. He's lounging around in a chair scrolling down on a digital pad, and he looks up when I enter. I force myself not to show any weakness. I am sixteen now, and certainly no child. I made a deal with Hyperion and I am not willing to show any reluctance in my dealings with him. I'm a courtesan, so I might as well play the part.

"Ah, Elethea. I'm glad you could make it."

I frown at his words. "What do you mean? You knew I would, for Leon."

"I wasn't certain after today's…display." Hyperion's lip curls in contempt, his eyes shining with some kind of malicious glee, and I know that he's talking about what Leon did at the Cornucopia. "Do you still want to support your brother now? Look what he's become. He's a wild animal, and we both know those are better put to rest. He's becoming a monster right in front of your eyes."

"Stop it," I snap, despite knowing that I'm only rising to his bait. "You don't know Leon like I do. He's doing what he has to. It's survival of the fittest."

"Yet you didn't do that." Hyperion walks over to me and starts circling like some kind of predator. I keep my eyes focused firmly on him, but something's different, something's wrong. Any trace of amusement has left his face and something cold and hard has taken its place. A shiver runs down my spine. "You played the pathetic little damsel in distress, didn't you? The poor, helpless child who needed protection. But who is going to protect you now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protest, because I'm truly confused. Protect me from what? Is he going to keep dangling empty threats over my head? Before I can say anything else, Hyperion grabs me by the wrist so hard that I feel like he might break my bones. He spins me and slams me against the wall, his expression turning into a snarl.

"Don't play dumb, you little bitch. Do you really think that I wouldn't find out? You promised me, anything for your brother's life, anything. But then the next thing I know, Finnick Odair is between your legs."

_Fuck._ How did Hyperion find out about that? My heart starts beating faster, because I know that nothing I say can get me out of this one. Whatever creepy stalker tactics Hyperion has, they've managed to get me sprung. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he strikes me across the face, hard enough that I fall to the ground.

"_Do you take me for a fool_?" Hyperion roars, and I don't think I've ever been more frightened in my life. Not just for myself, but for Leon. This man has so much power and now he's furious at me. I can't think of anything more terrifying. He slams a foot into my ribs and I cry out as something cracks, curling myself up into a ball.

Then Hyperion's on me and he's ripping my clothes off, punching me hard enough that I taste blood as I struggle. His lips find my neck and then his teeth, biting hard at my neck, my shoulder…I choke back a sob as he presses me into the floor, hand fisting tightly in my dark hair. His hands are all over me, nails raking over my body. He gropes at my breasts hard enough that I whimper.

"Does that hurt?" He laughs harshly, the sound grating on my ears. "Does it, sweetheart? You don't even know what pain is. But I'll teach you."

"I'm sorry," I plead, knowing how pathetic I must sound but somehow not caring. "Please, Hyperion, I know it was a mistake…please, stop…"

I hear the definitive sound of him unzipping his pants and I know that he is not going to show me any mercy. I feel defeated. He's right. I'm weak and pathetic. _Helpless._ I try and surge upwards but he fists his hand tighter in my hair and I whimper again, falling still. His hand moves up my thigh between my legs and I screw my eyes shut, utterly humiliated as his fingers demonstrate what he's about to do to me.

He slams his fist into my likely already broken ribs and I cry out, trying to muffle the sound of pain by biting down on my lip. I'm only giving him what he wants, and I can't, I just can't. He laughs hoarsely, breath hot on the back of my neck.

"I'm going to enjoy this, Elethea."

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I rake my hands through my hair as I walk into the District 4 apartments. It's been a long day and all I need is a hot shower. Yet when I head for the bathroom, the door is closed and the muffled sound of someone sobbing makes me stop. There's only one person it can be, and suddenly I dread opening the door. Elethea. Perhaps she's upset about Leon? It wouldn't surprise me. I wrench open the door.

"Go away!"

Elethea is huddled in a ball on the tiles, with nothing but a towel covering her up. Her eyes are swollen and red from crying. Blood smears the tiles and there are bruises all over her fair skin. I'm silent in shock for a few moments, before I step inside and cross over to her, kneeling in front of her and searching her face for answers.

"El, what happened? Who did this to you? Who hurt you?"

There's no doubt in my mind that someone has abused her. It's not the first time I've seen evidence of it. Elethea is clutching at her stomach like she's in pain and she seems unable to stop crying. It's the terror in her green eyes that tells me something is horribly wrong. I reach out to her, to comfort her, but she flinches away as though she's afraid I'll hurt her.

"It hurts," Elethea chokes out through her sobs.

"What does?" I ask, desperate for answers. "El, sweetie, please talk to me. Where are you hurting?"

"Everywhere." She rests her face on her arms and cries silently, shoulders shaking. I realise then that maybe it's not me that can help her. Judging by her condition, she needs a medic. I can't be sure because I don't where she's injured, where the blood is coming from, but that's the only thing I can think of in my desperation to help her. I lean forward and kiss her forehead.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to get some help."

"No, please!" Elethea cries desperately, eyes widening in horror. "No one can know!"

As much as her pleas move me, I know that I have to do what's best for her. Elethea's no doubt ashamed, but that doesn't matter now. All that matters is helping her recover from whatever abuse she's endured.

"I'm sorry, El. I'll be back."

* * *

An hour later, Elethea is fast asleep in her bed. She looks so painfully young, tucked beneath the blankets. She was so hysterical that she had to be given a sedative to settle her down and send her off to sleep. The medic is jotting down notes on her little pad, but I'm impatient. I want answers. I want to know who hurt Elethea so I can break their neck. The medic looks up from her pad and I raise my eyebrows, folding my arms over my chest.

"Well?"

"Miss Ambrose's injuries are worse than I first thought," the medic admits, "She shows evidence of being the victim of physical and sexual abuse."

"She was raped?" I demand, a sudden sick feeling in my stomach. Please let me be wrong. Please let her correct me and tell me it wasn't as bad as that. Yet the blood was coming from between Elethea's legs. I feel like I might be sick, nausea rising in my throat.

"Yes." The medic bites her lip and inspects the sleeping girl, and I feel so _angry._ She's only a girl, she's still practically a child. Someone has ruined her, broken her…and I didn't stop it from happening. "The force used on Miss Ambrose has led to internal injuries, causing the bleeding. Her attacker was obviously violent with her, to the extent where she has sustained several fractured ribs and some…more permanent injuries."

"More permanent injuries?" I repeat, feeling that things just seem to be getting worse. What kind of monster is Elethea dealing with? The knowledge that someone can do something like this to a girl so young is just sick. "What do you mean?"

"It's unlikely she will be able to bear children." The medic sighs heavily. "Due to the beatings sustained, and the brutality of the rape itself…well, it explains why she is in pain. Her attacker delivered some serious damage. It's also likely that she won't be comfortable with any kind of physical contact for a while."

"Thank you," I mutter, and the medic sees this as a dismissal and walks out of the apartment, tapping away at her pad. I sit down heavily beside Elethea, stroking her dark hair and feeling numb. Raped. Elethea has been raped.

"She told you." Elethea's voice is flat and she rolls over to stare at me with accusing green eyes burning with unshed tears. "I didn't want her to tell you."

"She didn't tell me who it was," I state, hoping that Elethea will give me a little more information. I understand that it's difficult for her. I get that she is going through a tough time. But all I want to do is make things right.

"Neither will I," Elethea replies vehemently, and I know better than to try and pressure her. She turns her face and her voice becomes choked up. "You must be so disgusted."

I can hear the agony in her voice, the bitterness there after what her attacker has done. I want to reach out and hold her close, but the medic said that she probably wouldn't be comfortable with it. I don't exactly blame her.

"Not at you." I clench my hands into fists. "At whoever has done this to you. You don't deserve this, don't you ever think otherwise, Elethea. I'm disgusted at myself. I should have protected you better. Nothing excuses the fact that I stood by and let this happen."

"Fin, it's not your fault," Elethea murmurs, her voice softening slightly. "You…you can't stop it. He's too powerful."

No man is powerful enough to stop me from breaking their head clean in two. I thought I was mad when I found Elethea? The knowledge that she's been violated makes me feel like if I was back in the arena, I would be invincible. I would kill anyone in my path.

"I can't have children. Ever."

Elethea's eyes well with tears and she presses her face into her pillow and cries hard. I don't know if she wanted children, but the choice has been taken away from her before she was even old enough to make it. I want to comfort her, to hold her close and stroke her hair, but I know it'll only frighten her. All I can do is sit and watch the hurt pouring out of her without being able to do a damn thing. She clutches at her stomach, wincing in pain. It's because of her attacker. This faceless man who has caused her so much pain. But why?


	23. See No Evil

**Chapter Twenty-Three: See No Evil**

* * *

**A/N: Alright my lovely readers, we're approaching the end of this story! There will be a sequel, set during the events of The Hunger Games trilogy (the 74th Hunger Games onwards). Please do review, it makes me so happy to see all your comments! I know last chapter was very harsh, so here's a good dose of Leon action to balance it out.**

* * *

_"I bleed for the second time tonight,_

_For you are all that's in my mind,_

_If only my love could be with you_

_If only this pain, this pain died too."_

_- Dear Angel, April Sixth_

* * *

**Leon's POV**

My eyes sting and there's nothing I want more than to sleep, but I know that if I do, I won't wake up again. My spear is what keeps me awake, my fingers digging into the tip so hard that I make them bleed. I have to focus. I've already killed Macklin and Kaya. Listening to the cannons going off the night before, and gazing out of the castle window into the sky, I see the faces flashing up on the screen. Shit, I didn't realise that so many people had died. The survivors are very few: Brie, Elsa, Wulf, me…the boy from District 3, both from District 6, the girl from District 8 and the boy from District 11. We're close to hitting the final eight and the Games have only just begun.

A scampering outside in the corridor makes me haul up my spear, very aware of the fact that I've got company. I prepare to throw, but almost immediately, an arrow embeds itself in my thigh. I hiss in pain and almost drop my spear, looking up to meet the glare of the girl from District 8. There's no mercy in her eyes, but there's no hatred either. She presses her lips into a firm line and strings another arrow.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now, Career."

I can't help but laugh hoarsely. Her words right there are reason enough. "Because if you were going to, you already would have."

The girl falters, although her grip on her bow remains firm. I can see her questioning herself. When she realises I'm not throwing the spear, I think that's when we both discover that we're suddenly allies without meaning to be. She's not that old, maybe only a year or two older than me. She's waif-thin and freckled.

"What's your name, Career?" she demands of me.

"Leon," I reply, gripping the arrow in my thigh. It's going to hurt like hell trying to get it out, but it's better than leaving it there to get infected. With a sigh, the girl steps forward and pushes my hand away. She rips the arrow free, causing me to yelp in pain.

"Dittany," she states, cleaning the scraps of bloody flesh off the arrowhead. "But you can call me Ditz. It's a nickname I earned back in District 8."

"How much do you know about archery?" I inquire, suppressing a groan as I lean against the wall to stop myself from falling to the ground. I watch as Ditz rips the sleeve from her shirt and uses it to bandage the wound that she created in the first place. What a strange girl.

"Not a lot," Ditz admits, "But I know a bit about caring for wounds."

"A bit?" I glower at her.

She merely shrugs, picking up her bow again. "If you wanted to see a medic, shouldn't have volunteered for the Games. Now, come on. I saw what happened at the bloodbath. The rest of the Careers are beyond pissed at you."

"So where are we going?" I inquire.

She offers me a wolfish smile. "To find them, of course."

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I walk into Elethea's room, and I'm immensely relieved to see that the dark-haired girl is curled up in a ball, asleep. I walk over and sit beside her bed, watching her breathe softly from where she's tangled in the sheets, a prison of her own making. She seems so peaceful now, yet I will never forget her hysteria just yesterday. The anger hasn't dissolved. I still feel the need to kill whoever has done this damage. She stirs and opens her eyes slowly, and I offer her a small smile, like that can possibly comfort her.

"Hey."

"Hi." Her green eyes assess me immediately, picking up the strain in my smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I want to reach out to her somehow, but I don't know what to do. My words are a lie, of course. How can I possibly be alright in the knowledge of what's befallen little Elethea? "Are you feeling better?"

"Mmm, still a bit sore," Elethea admits, wincing as she sits up. I help her, watching as she picks up the glass beside her bed and takes a few gulps of water. She seems calmer today, but I don't want to look into her eyes for fear of what I might see there. "Fin? You look worried."

"I'm worried about you," I confess softly.

"Why? Because of what happened?" Elethea curls her knees to her chest, the scared child once more. I can see the marks on her skin now, deep bruises on her wrists where her aggressor had held her down, another bruise on her cheek where he'd likely struck her. It only makes me angrier. I force myself not to think about the bruises that are surely between her legs. "How…how much do you know?"

"I know enough to be worried," I state, but I don't want to scare her by rattling off details. Elethea has already lived through the nightmare once, I don't want to trigger a relapse.

"It wasn't that bad," she murmurs, causing me to sigh.

"Please don't lie to me."

The dark-haired girl looks up at me. "What did she tell you, Finnick?"

I rake a hand through my hair and when I speak, my voice is heavy. "She told me that whoever did this to you was very brutal."

She gnaws at her lip and there's sadness in her eyes. I wonder how it must feel knowing that she can never have children. Would she have wanted them, knowing they'd be subject to the Games? I don't know, I can never be sure…and neither can she.

"I just want to go home," Elethea says, her voice very small, "I'm scared."

I hug her, just wanting to comfort her, but she wrenches away from me immediately. I can't help but flinch at her blatant rejection but when I look at her, I can see the misery shining in her green eyes as she blinks back tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I wish I wasn't like this. But I know it's going to happen again. If I was at home, I'd be safe."

Disgust wells within me. She shouldn't be so frightened, she shouldn't be living in this constant fear that she is going to be hurt if she doesn't do what she's told. Shit, she's just a kid still, no matter her maturity. She is a sixteen-year-old girl, and she doesn't deserve the abuse she's had to tolerate.

"Fin?" Her tone is inquisitive and I look at her carefully. "Is…is this okay?"

I feel a strong surge of emotion. Okay? Which part of this is meant to be okay? I feel sympathy for her, for the fact that Elethea somehow believes that being beaten and raped could in any sense be okay. Who has led her to believe that she deserves or was meant to accept this, or that it is in any way the norm?

"Of course it's not okay, El," I reply as she stares at her hands, my voice harder than I'd intended for it to be. I push myself to my feet and walk out, before she asks any other questions that could break me.

* * *

**Leon's POV**

I quickly come to the conclusion that Ditz is a cold, hard survivor – until she made the choice not to shoot me. Is it because I'm young, and she thought I deserved a second chance? I'm not sure, but I listen as Ditz recalls how her district partner, Roland, was decapitated by Brie during the bloodbath. Such savagery from the District 1 girl doesn't exactly surprise me. After she's done talking about Roland, she glances at me and purses her lips in that disapproving expression of hers.

"You killed your district partner. Just like your sister."

"The circumstances were different," I mutter. I know how much it hurts Elethea to remember that she was Dom's murderer. She would give anything to take it back, but I would gladly kill Kaya again.

Ditz shrugs and glances around. I definitely don't like the arena too much this year. A castle? It makes me feel claustrophobic, to know that there are certain rooms and chambers and battlements. I think one of the biggest problems this year is going to be how we get food. Every night so far there has been a banquet – which is when a small amount of food is dropped down to the Cornucopia. However, barely anyone goes there, because the Careers are always there first.

Ditz told me that the Careers are camped out in the dungeons, which doesn't surprise me in the least. I also know that it's a bit of a trek from the dungeons up to the Cornucopia. While it would be plain stupid to try and get in the way of rampaging Careers, Ditz suggests that it might be a wise idea to try and block their path. I wholeheartedly agree with this. Cutting the Careers off will buy us time, or prevent them from getting to the banquet at all.

"We can't attack the Careers openly until your leg heals," Ditz remarks, indicating my still-healing wound. It's been two days and I'm impatient. I'm not bloodthirsty and I don't look forward to killing. What I do look forward to is winning, and the sooner that happens, the better. It'll be a shame if I have to kill Ditz myself, but it's a sacrifice that I'm prepared to make.

The problem is that whatever we put in front of the Careers, if the two of us can manouevre it there, it won't take long for the three of them to push it out of the way. That's when I suggest to Ditz that we should collapse a pillar in order to stop the Careers. Needless to say, the thought of this amuses her.

"How are we going to do that, Leon?"

"I don't know, alright?" I reply in frustration. I just wish my leg would heal, because right now I feel about ready to amputate it. I can only limp about the place and I don't have the slightest clue how to collapse a pillar. "Look, forget it. Forget the banquet."

"Then we go hungry and don't eat," Ditz says impatiently. She lapses into silence for a few moments, considering our options. "Perhaps one of us should hide there earlier on. I'll do it if you're too gutless. Grab some of the food and hide with it, wait until the Careers are done there and bail."

I don't see many other options, and I get the feeling that Ditz will go ahead with her plan even if I disagree. Sucking in a breath, I nod slowly. I can barely walk let alone run. If the Careers get their hands on me…well, I don't like to think about what might happen.

"Let's do it."

* * *

I stand as sentry by one of the entrances. As the banquets have likely become common knowledge, it's my job to stop any other tributes that might come and steal food. Of course, I know better than to try and take on the Careers alone. I'm good – the deaths of Macklin and Kaya proved that. But I'm not good enough to take on three of them and survive. So I wait at my post with my spear in hand and wait for the banquet to begin.

It doesn't take very long. Soon enough there are footsteps coming down the hallway. I squeeze my eyes shut and clutch my spear so tight that splinters dig into my fingers. _You know what you have to do. You know the sacrifices you have to make in order to go home._ I step out of my hiding place and kneel as the boy from District 11 runs straight through my spear. There's a horrible squelching sound and he gurgles. Banishing my nausea, I rip my weapon free and turn my back to the sight of him convulsing on the ground.

A hoarse scream resonates from the Cornucopia as the boy's cannon goes off – is it his? It must be, because the screaming continues. I wonder if it's Ditz, but even if it is, I can't risk going in there. It'll be three against one and I wouldn't stand a chance. Someone laughs, a girl, and another cannon goes off. Two tributes dead within the space of two minutes. Holy shit.

It's painful to know that all I can do is wait. The sound of a scuffle within the Cornucopia, of shouts and laughter, makes my blood boil until all I want to do is throw myself into the fray. But I can't be that reckless thirteen-year-old. I have to show more self-control than that. So I press the bloody tip of my spear to my forehead and wait in silence, while the eyes of my latest kill stare blankly up at me.

I think it's about half an hour before Ditz stumbles in. I immediately look for a fatal wound – heart, stomach, neck – but find nothing. She offers me a strained smile and sets down the food that she'd gathered in her arms. Ditz sways and I catch her, frowning as I look for wounds. There's only a scratch on her shoulder, why is she so frail? Ditz shivers and I set her down on the ground.

"What happened?" I inquire, desperate to know what could have turned her into someone so weak…so unlike Ditz.

"They found me." Her eyes flutter closed briefly, and I notice how horribly pale she's gone. "Luckily I was faster. They slashed at me…only got my shoulder. I killed one of them…Brie? The girl from District 1. But I got away."

I don't understand. "If they only just got you…why are you like this, Ditz?"

She laughs without mirth and puts her lips close to my ear. "Their weapons…they're poisoned."

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

I'm so tired of playing the scared little girl, the victim. Yet what Hyperion did scars me in more ways than just the physical. I can't bear to face Finnick now that I realise he partially knows the truth, so I spend a lot of time in the surveillance room. I watch Leon as he cradles the slowly dying girl from District 8. He's made an ally only to lose. On another screen, the remaining Careers from District 2 have come across the pair from District 6. I watch blankly, but I already know what's going to happen.

"Elethea?" A woman's voice makes me turn my head to see Cashmere standing in the doorway. I wince at the bright light, shielding my eyes. She frowns. "It's 2am, what are you still doing up?"

"I have to watch him," I murmur, my voice coming out hoarse. "I have to make sure."

Cashmere shuts the door and crosses over to sit beside me in the darkness. We watch the screens in silence for a little while. The boy from District 6 is dead on the ground, and the Careers are trying to force the girl off the battlements. I feel tears welling in my eyes. I'm sitting here and I'm so cold, I'm so numb to the fact that real children are dying in front of me. I know how it feels, because I was there once.

"Finnick spoke to me," Cashmere sighs heavily, "I know you don't want to talk to him, but I'm not stupid. Something happened to you. One of the Capitol men…"

"Hyperion," I spit the word out hatefully. That sick man took pleasure in my cries of pain, took delight in an agonizing experience. There is no person I loathe more on this entire planet. His aim was to hurt me, and he succeeded. "He raped me."

Why is it so easy to say such things to Cashmere, but not to Finnick? Is it because I know that she's another victim of Hyperion's foul temper and constant abuse? The blonde woman presses a hand over her mouth in shock, before putting an arm around my shoulders. I sit there stoically, indifferent to her attempts at comfort.

"Elethea…I'm so sorry. He's a monster, I think we all know that."

"He can't know." I turn to face Cashmere as the girl from 6, faced with the choice between piercing blades and the fall, throws herself from the battlements to meet her doom. "Finnick. I don't want him finding out that I'm a courtesan, too."

Cashmere gathers me close to her and for the first time, I wonder if this is what it feels like to have an older sister. She strokes my hair rhythmically and presses a soft kiss to my forehead while I clutch at her like my life depends on it.

"I won't tell him."


	24. Wish You Were Here

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Wish You Were Here**

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**A/N: Scary to think that next chapter is going to be the last in this story! Don't worry, there's still the sequel to go, which of course is set during the 74th Hunger Games onwards. This chapter is short but...it was pretty difficult, for reasons you'll soon discover. Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows! Feedback is always appreciated, so let me know what you think!**

* * *

_"I wanted to believe as I _

_Watched your world crumble in your hands_

_I wanted to believe as you_

_Raised your glass to your last stand."_

_- Suicide Note, Johnette Napolitano_

* * *

**Leon's POV**

It's frightening, how few of us there are left. In a castle arena once occupied by twenty-four tributes, there's only me, Ditz, the pair from 2 and the boy from 3. The stone walls feel colder than ever. Ditz seems to think so too. She isn't dead, but the infection in her blood from the poison only makes her weaker by the hour. When night falls, her hand clutching at mine feels like ice.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you volunteer?"

The question surprises me, because I didn't expect it would ever matter to another tribute. But I look at Ditz and I see that we're the same. Two kids thrust into a harsh, uncaring environment where we're _meant_ to die. That alone is incentive enough to drive us towards survival.

"For my sister, Elethea. She won the 69th Games and…I don't know. I just thought I might understand her better. If I make it out alive."

There's a bitterness to my voice. At first I was confident about survival. But none of us know everything. None of us can be certain. Seeing Ditz dying right in front of me, while I'm helpless to stop it, makes me realise how inevitable death it. She clings tighter to my hand, despite the fact that her strength is fading.

"You'll win. I know you will."

I sigh heavily. "You can't know that."

"You could, if you really wanted to." Ditz's eyes are shining fervently, with tears as well as with emotion. Her voice becomes less fierce then, the voice of a child. "I don't want to die. Not here. Not like this."

"I'm here with you," I insist. I might not be her district partner, I might be little more than a stranger who happens to occupy the same space, but surely that's got to be better than dying alone. "I'm not leaving."

"You'll stay?" Ditz sounds surprised, and I realise that she expected me to abandon her. She's weak and if the pair from 2 found us, she wouldn't be much of an ally. I'm shocked to think that maybe there's some humanity left in me after all. I squeeze her hand tightly.

"Until the end."

* * *

She dies in her sleep. It's a peaceful death, far more peaceful than a tribute in the Games expects to have. The only reason I know this is because I hear the cannon and I jerk upwards, fingers seeking out my spear. I glance at Ditz and for a moment, I think she's still asleep. Her eyes are closed. But I see how pale she's gone, the colour of bone, and when I shake her, she doesn't move. My fingers fumble for a pulse, but I don't find anything. Ditz is gone.

I swallow the lump in my throat, and I'm astounded that there are tears in my eyes. We weren't allies for a long period of time. We didn't really know each other. Yet we fought together, ate together, shared experiences. I smile weakly and reach out to touch Ditz's icy cold skin. A final farewell to my only ally.

"Goodbye, Ditz."

There's something odd about the thought of sleeping next to the dead body of a former comrade. I gather up our things – my things now – and move on. A distant scream makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I realise that Ditz may not be the only one to die tonight. I can't pinpoint the scream as male or female. Elsa from 2 is the only girl left in the Games, could it be her?

No. It's not Elsa screaming. Because when I turn around, she's there in the shadows, waiting quietly with a knife in her hand. I thought Elsa was bubbly and sweet when I first met her. But the girl with dead eyes staring at me now is anything but. Elsa's lips twist into a mirthless smile, as her district partner's unfortunate victim screams again.

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

Trust. It's a word that holds so much meaning. Built over so much time, yet it crumble within seconds. I've trust Finnick, and he's never done anything to prove that I shouldn't. It's Hyperion that has shattered my trust, not within my fellow mentor, but within myself. How can I sleep when memories of what he did haunt my dreams? How can I live with myself knowing that a whirlwind, impulsive bout of sex with Finnick could shatter my brother's chances of becoming Victor?

Instead of holding myself tight and shutting everyone else out, I've started letting Finnick in. It was a difficult decision. It's so hard to know whether he thinks badly of me, for being so weak as to let myself be used and degraded in that kind of way. But there's something so comforting about being in his warm arms. When it gets too much, I bury my face in his shirt and count to ten, and suddenly things don't seem so bad anymore. Like Finnick can banish the darkness.

I sound like such a stupid, sentimental child. If there's one thing I know, it's that it wasn't impulsive when I said that I love him. The only people I care about as much as I care about Finnick are Leon and Mum. Perhaps Annie. Snuggled in bed beside Finnick, with my head on his chest to hear his steady heartbeat and soft breathing, there's no doubt now that what I feel is very real.

Sex repulses me. Not just the act itself, but the idea of what it means. What's meant to be something intimate between two people has become, to me, one of the vilest acts. It's a show of power, a humiliation, an invasion of another person's soul. I'm steadfast in that belief, despite knowing that it's exactly how Hyperion wants me to feel. Maybe I should just give up, and be the Capitol's little doll, a plaything. Wouldn't it be easier?

Finnick shifts beside me and I retreat, putting some distance between us. He's the one who agreed to this arrangement, although I suggested it. I realise now that perhaps he's just as broken as me. We can both be broken together. It's almost laughable really. We try our hardest, but in the ends, we're only small shards of who we were before the Games consumed our lives.

"Finnick…"

The door bursts open and I just about jump out of my skin, my grip immediately tightening around Finnick's arm. He jolts awake and has me pulled to him in an instant, before realising that it's only Jehovah standing in the doorway. He's panting like he's been running and he glances between us with wild eyes.

"What?" Finnick snaps, clearly not too pleased with having to be roused from sleep.

"It's Leon," Jehovah wheezes, and those two words are enough to have me on my feet in a second. "It's the showdown, now. Only four of them left. It's all happening now. You'd better come quickly."

I'm running out towards the elevator before Jehovah can say anything else, pressing buttons frantically. My little brother is still alive, still in that arena. But how much longer can his good luck last? Because that's how you win the Games really: pure luck. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I follow Elethea down to the observation room, understanding her frantic desperation despite not having siblings of my own. By the time I get there, she's pacing in front of the screens, hands twisting. On one screen, the boy from 3 is being violently stabbed to death by the boy from 2. He's screaming and attempting to shove the other boy away, but it's already too late. My eyes sweep the nearly empty room. Beetee from 3 shakes his head as the cannon goes off, pushing himself to his feet with eyes full of sorrow.

The boy from 2 staggers back, appearing to be triumphant, before he falls to his knife. It's only then that I notice the boy from 3 managed to get the last laugh: a knife is stuck in the boy from 2's chest. It can't be long now before he succumbs to what is surely going to be a fatal wound. My eyes turn away from that screen as Beetee leaves the room.

Elethea's hands ball into hopeful fists. Leon has been confronted by the girl from 2 – Elsa, I think that was her name. They're battling fiercely, and I want to believe he's going to win, I want to see his victory already written there on the screen. Leon is striking some brilliant blows against his older opponent, but Elsa is small and fast, whipping around him with that knife of his and slashing here and there.

"Do you think he stands a chance?" Elethea whispers, as if she's scared to say the words aloud and jinx her brother's chance at victory. The answer is yes. Both remaining tributes seem to stand a pretty good chance. But I can't talk, because my eyes are glued to Leon as he jabs his spear at Elsa.

The girl from 2 screams and falls to the ground, clutching at her side. Leon appears to be shocked at this, but then utter relief lights up his face. He tosses his spear to the ground and raises his shaking hands to the sky. But there's something wrong about this picture. Why hasn't Elsa's cannon gone off? Why haven't they announced Leon as the Victor? Something is off, horribly off.

I watch in horror as Elsa pushes herself to her feet behind Leon. There's a wicked smile on her lips and I realise then that she faked the wound and the collapse. She wants Leon to believe that he's won – and then she'll snatch it away from him. Behind the screens, we're so powerless, helpless. There is nothing we can do to help Leon as Elsa prowls towards him. I notice Elethea stiffen beside me, her green eyes wide with terror.

"No…Leon, no…"

Elsa grabs a fistful of Leon's dark hair and jerks his head back. Utter shock consumes his young features as he realises he's been tricked. Then Elsa drags the knife across his throat, and blood spurts forth from the wound. She releases him and pushes him contemptuously. Leon chokes up scarlet, staggering like a drunk before he crumbles to the ground. He looks up at the sky, and I wonder if he knows that his sister is watching his dying moments. I close my eyes as the cannon goes over. The finality sinks in, sickening me.

Elethea starts to scream. It's the most horrible, heart wrenching sound I've ever heard. She cries out her brother's name over and over again, as if it'll bring him back to life. Her sobs aren't quiet and neat. They're sounds that will haunt my sleep for weeks to come, the screams of a girl who has lost absolutely everything. All I can do is stagger forward and gather Elethea in my arms. I hold her close even as she fights me, beats at my chest with her small fists.

"LEON! NO! I WANT LEON!"

She's crying so hard that it must physically pain her. Her desperate howls resonate through the nearly empty observation room. Numbly, I'm aware that Elsa has been proclaimed the Victor. I don't care. I can't care. There's nothing except Elethea in my arms, with her heart broken into so many pieces, and her family brutally torn apart.

"He's dead," I whisper into her dark hair, feeling tears of my own welling in my eyes. I kiss the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, my poor sweet Elethea. Leon's dead."


	25. All Fall Down

**Chapter Twenty-Five: All Fall Down**

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**A/N: So difficult to think this story has finally come to a close! Yep, this is the last chapter, guys. The sequel will be titled LEAVE THE SOUL ALONE, and will be up whenever I get around to the first chapter :P Thanks for being so amazing, please leave some parting reviews? Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_"Lost til you're found, swim til you drown_

_Know that we all fall down_

_Love til you hate, strong til you break_

_Know that we all fall down."_

_- All Fall Down, OneRepublic_

* * *

**Elethea's POV **

There's nothing left. That's all that echoes through my mind, through my numb body, as Finnick and I make the journey back to District 4. My mother might physically only have lost one of her children, but emotionally, she's already lost us both. I look down at my hands as the train jolts. My knuckles are red and raw, and I know they'll bruise from where I beat at the wall until Finnick had to physically pull me away. I don't want to be this. I don't want to be broken. But I have never had a choice, and Leon's death only cut the final tie to sanity.

What am I meant to say to Mum? How am I meant to make it better? I can't help but feel that because Leon was my responsibility, somehow, his death is my fault. But what could I have done to stop it? I feel so frustratingly helpless and my hands curl into fists despite how it hurts my knuckles. The Capitol has done this to us. I wish I could find the strength to be angry, but all that finds me is the melancholy.

Finnick has tried his best to help me. But despite my feelings for him, even he can't understand the pain of losing a younger sibling. He holds me close and strokes my hair until I cry myself to sleep – or so he thinks. I barely sleep at all, mainly I lie there awake thinking about my sins and what I can do to redeem them. But no redemption is enough to bring Leon back from the dead, and that just makes me cry harder.

"El?" I look up as I hear the sound of Finnick's voice. He's being so painfully patient, as if I'm a small child. "We're nearly back in District 4. Come on. It's time to face the music."

I can't do this alone. Neither can I. That much has always been obvious. When the train starts to slow, I take Finnick's hand in mine and squeeze tightly. He glances down at our linked hands and smiles. We exit the train like that, united. There is no cheering on the platform, no happy residents come to see the new Victor. There is only a grim silence, the grief of the tributes' families…my family, or what's left of it. I clutch Finnick's hand even tighter as my eyes scan the crowd desperately for my mum.

"Elethea." She steps out, her voice hoarse and…she looks so different. She's only thirty-five, but she looks like she's aged ten years. I didn't know grief could take that kind of toll so quickly. I release Finnick's hand and fling my arms around her, holding her close as her tears seep through the fabric of my shirt. "My darling girl."

"No, Mum, I'm not." I choke the words out, trying desperately to suppress tears of my own. "I should have done something more…I should have protected him…"

Mum grips my shoulders, but although her eyes are watery, her tone is firm. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It's the Capitol that did this to both of you. They took you away and now they've killed Leon. It was never your fault."

I can't bring myself to object, even though I feel differently. Mum's been through enough, and I don't want to make things harder. All I can do is cling to her, and try to ignore the empty place in my heart where Leon once was.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

"How is she going?" Rayne asks quietly when I walk back downstairs from settling Elethea down. She has nightmares so frequently that I've been spending more time in their house in the Victor's Village than my own. I think it helps Rayne as well as Elethea. I know it definitely helps me. Dealing with Elethea's screams during the night is nothing new, and I don't want to leave that to Rayne so soon after she's lost her son.

"She'll sleep, for now." I sit down and rake my hair back, smiling slightly when Rayne pushes a mug of coffee across the table to me. Elethea's mum has always taken a liking to me, for reasons that are beyond me. Aren't I broken? How would she feel if she knew I'd had sex with her daughter? Would she still treat me the same?

"It's frightening," Rayne murmurs, stirring sugar into her own coffee. "I feel like I'm an entire world away from her. All I want to do is help, but she responds to you so much better than she responds to me."

"A lot of bad things happened in the Capitol," I admit. There's a bitter taste in my mouth and I know it's not the coffee. "I think, because I'm in tune with how she feels, and I know what she's going through, it makes it easier to have me around. Don't worry, I'm sure in time she'll start to open up to you."

I look up from my coffee to realise that Rayne is watching me intently. There's so much hurt in those eyes, and I pity this poor woman. Her youngest child was needlessly slaughtered for sport. Her oldest, her only remaining child, still cries out in her sleep and has nightmares about her Games two years past…and the incidents that have occurred since then.

"What happened in the Capitol?" Rayne inquires softly. "Finnick, I…I know you're close with her. Something's different this time, I can tell…and I know it's not just Leon's death. Please, if you know anything…tell me."

I'm torn. I don't want to lie to Rayne or keep things from her, but at the same time…she doesn't really want to know the horrors Elethea has been through. It's her child. She wouldn't be able to stand it. I take a deep breath.

"I know what happened, but I don't think Elethea would want me to talk about it. I'm sorry. It's just…too raw, I guess."

"Please, Finnick." Rayne's voice becomes hoarse with unshed tears. "She's my little girl, she's all I have. I need to know what they've done to her."

"When we were in the Capitol…" I take a deep breath. Am I making a horrible mistake? No, I don't think so. Maybe it's time to stop hiding the truth and let it have its day. "Rayne, I'm so sorry. I didn't even know until afterwards, but…Elethea was raped."

Rayne lapses into an awful silence that's worse than screaming or tears. She stares at her hands for a long while, nodding as though she comprehends. When she looks back at me, there's no sadness in her eyes – only the incandescent rage of a parent whose child has been hurt, and who wants to know who is responsible.

"Which of those fucked-up bastards did this to my daughter? Why would that _monster_ want to hurt her?"

"His name is Hyperion Dormer," I state, because there is nothing but loathing inside of me for what that man has done. "He was a former Gamemaker, and he did it for the same reason they host the Hunger Games: for fun."

It must be so sick, so horrible to hear that her sixteen-year-old daughter was raped for something like a man's amusement, but I can't lie to her. The truth is hard, but it's better than telling her a lie to ease her pain. The pain's always there. There's no point trying to kill it with sweet lies.

"I would kill him with my bare hands." Rayne's grip tightens around her coffee mug. "No one should ever go through something like that, especially not my baby girl. Were…were you there for her, after it happened?"

I remember then what the medic said: Elethea can't have children. But I spare Rayne that sickening blow, because it's not a lie. It's concealing the truth until she's better equipped to handle it. She will never look upon a baby with a proud grandmother's smile on her face. There's suddenly a lump in my throat, and my eyes sting with tears. It's not just Elethea and I in pain. This is hurting Rayne, too.

"Help her, Finnick," Rayne whispers, staring down at her empty coffee mug. "I don't care what it takes. Just…take her pain away."

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I feel my bed sag under someone's weight, and I know that it's Finnick. It's the early hours of the morning, but I think he knows that I'm not asleep. I crack my eyes open, because curling up beneath the sheets and being alone doesn't do it anymore. I've had my time to mope, but it only makes me feel worse. I reach up and touch his arm, letting him know through the darkness that I'm awake.

"Hey. What are you doing up here?"

"Checking on you," Finnick's voice is heavy. "Your mum is really worried about you, El. You haven't been eating much, and when you sleep, you're always having nightmares."

I've got him to take care of me. I want to say that, but it seems somehow selfish, relying on him to banish my nightmares. Just him being here helps, oddly enough. But I want more than him sitting beside me keeping his distance. I'm sick of people staying away, like I'm contagious, like I'll infect them with my sadness. I yank him closer, pulling him onto the bed beside me and crawling out of the blankets.

"I'm okay, now that you're here."

"El, what are you doing?" Finnick asks almost suspiciously as I clamber on top of him. At first I just rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. But that's not enough. I need skin on skin. I need a reminder of what's real. I need pleasure, I crave it, and I know it's selfish, maybe it's wrong…but I can't help it.

"I want you." I whisper against his neck. I don't just mean sex. I want all of him. But if we're seen as romantically involved, the Capitol will use us against each other. I can't afford to lose him too. My hands fumble hurriedly, tugging up his shirt. He sits up, brushing me off him, and catches my wrist.

"Elethea, stop. Just…think about this for a moment."

I'm already lost, and I think he knows it too. We both want this. He might be too morally decent to want to do it while I'm in grief, but I'm sure I can convince him. I kiss him hard, wrapping my arms around him, and we roll around on the bed in a flurry of arms and legs and clothes. I'm half-laughing and half-crying, and I don't even understand it. Finnick kisses away my tears, and when I'm on my back and he looms over me, it just seems wrong. It seems terrifying.

So I flip us so he's beneath me and it seems better again. He raises his eyebrows, but quickly disregards any questions he might have when my lips on his chest make him groan and run his fingers through my dark hair. Maybe it's because of what happened with Hyperion, but I have to be on top. I have to be in _control._

"You have to be quiet," Finnick whispers huskily, "Your mum's just in the next room."

"I know," I murmur in his ear, crawling on top of him. "Quiet, I can do."

* * *

**Finnick's POV **

I walk over to Elethea and place a hand on her shoulder as she and Rayne stand by the raging ocean. Today the winds are fierce and the water is choppy, as if the sea itself is protesting on behalf of Leon. Elethea's dark hair billows in the wind and she clutches the clear bottle tight in her hands. It's an old superstition that if you toss a bottle into the ocean with a message inside it, someone will eventually find it. Many in District 4 do it for the tributes lost to the Hunger Games, heart-wrenching messages swept out to sea and likely never to be found.

"Are you ready?" I ask, earning a nod from the dark-haired girl. She pads barefoot across the wet sand to the water, and it eagerly sloshes over her feet. It splashes over her and wets the hem of her dress, but Elethea doesn't care. Rayne lifts her chin and watches Elethea, and I see in her eyes that no matter how broken her daughter has become, she's proud of her.

Elethea hikes her skirt up above her knees with one hand and flings her other arm out, bottle in hand. She tilts her head back and lets the harsh sea breeze whip her dark hair about her, so she looks like some strange, fierce creature of the ocean. I fold my arms and watch her, watch as she wades deeper still. She can send the bottle out anytime she wants, but it's up to her how far out she goes. So long as Elethea doesn't try and drown herself, we aren't objecting.

She sets the bottle down on the surface of the water, pushing it slightly so that it floats out over the waves, bobbing out to see. Elethea stumbles back then, and I rush forward and catch her before she can fall. She clings to my arms but she's smiling, smiling as tears run down her face and I'm not sure if she's happy or sad or both. But Leon is at peace, and that's all that matters to her.

"Do you think someone will ever read it?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," I reply. I know that we need to cling to fantasy sometimes because reality is too hard. But Elethea can cling to me, because as long as we have each other, anything is possible.


End file.
